


Something Just Like This

by midnightandahalf



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: Babe - Freeform, Babe HEA, F/M, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Slow Burn, cupcake friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 104,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25528849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightandahalf/pseuds/midnightandahalf
Summary: A piece of Ranger’s past comes looking for him in Trenton, and when she winds up FTA, Stephanie and Ranger join forces to track her down before she’s taken out. In the process, Stephanie gets an unprecedented peek into Ranger’s life and the depth of his secrets, and has to decide what she can live with - assuming they both live through next week.
Relationships: Ricardo Carlos Manoso/Stephanie Plum
Comments: 58
Kudos: 31





	1. Prologue

**A/N:** This is a Babe HEA, though no cupcakes have been harmed in the making of this story. This is my first multi-chapter story in the Plum fandom, and I'm planning on posting new chapters about once a week (ish). Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

The story is titled after the song "Something Just Like This" by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay, which is my theme song for this fic. The song "Painkiller" by Ruel was my soundtrack for this chapter.

**Prologue**

"Six, where the hell are you?"

He got no answer. Same as he'd gotten sixty seconds ago. Ranger forced his grip on the steering wheel to relax and kept his eyes glued to the side of the building where his man had disappeared. Alex was meant to be scoping the location. A quick, five-minute recon. And yet here they were, ten minutes later, getting radio silence.

It was an undercover op, and Ranger was connected to his man via an earbud. For the first couple minutes he could believe that Alex was looking for a private space to communicate, but the feasibility of that had evaporated. He'd been too quiet for too long.

He turned to Dante in the passenger seat next to him. "You ready to go fishing?"

Dante grinned. "Sure. Kid probably got distracted, taking in the scenery. Bet you twenty _billete_ I find him with his hand up a skirt."

"Make it forty, and you're on," Pedro contributed from the backseat.

"I'll take that bet," Cordero said in Ranger's ear.

Ranger relayed the message to Dante, since he was still working on getting his earbud in. "TOC is in."

Dante got his earbud online and arranged his blue bandana to partially obscure it. "TOC, this is Two. I'm going in. I'll take you all out for _cervezas_ when I win this bet."

Dante had his hand on the door handle when they heard Alex in their ears. "Sorry to disappoint, boys."

"Six, report," Ranger said.

"We've got a bit of a Charlie Foxtrot," he said, voice low. "I'm exiting the building, and I'll loop back around to you in two mikes."

The side street Ranger had picked was barely within view of their target building, but it had the advantage of being low-to-no traffic, foot or vehicular. So when a lone figure appeared at the end of the street, Ranger was pretty sure it was Alex, but he felt better with his hand resting on his Glock anyway. He would've felt even better with his hand resting on his M4, but it didn't fit their cover.

Alex wrenched the door open and swung into the back of the SUV next to Pedro. "I was under the impression that this shindig was supposed to have an exclusive guest list."

"What did you find?" Ranger asked.

"The place is packed," Alex said. "Our target is there, but surrounded. No one is checking names at the door. The club seems like it's business as usual."

"TOC, you getting this?"

"Roger that. Standby," Cordero told them.

Someone had fucked up. In their line of work, the cost of a fuck-up was sometimes human life, so Ranger felt justified in his annoyance. Their intelligence was that the nightclub was reserved tonight for a private party. Seemed that wasn't the case, which meant it was presumably filled with innocent civilians.

He angled to face Alex in the backseat. "Where's our target? What's the set-up?"

"Our HVT is with Valdez in a private room, cordoned off from the main space with a velvet rope. It's open, no walls, more like a VIP area than an actual room. First floor, back of the club, across from the main bar. It's the only private room on the floor. I counted four guards. Two other men and two women, plus Valdez and Gabriella."

"Work it through," Ranger coached. "What's the plan?"

"We might actually have an advantage on entry," Alex said. "If there are more civilians than Reyes, we won't be spotted as quickly. We could disappear into the crowd on the dance floor, which stands between the entrance and Valdez's private room. It's on exit where we'll be in trouble. That's a lot of bodies to get through."

"No other exit?"

"That's what took me so long. I cased the main floor and the second, even asked a bartender about deliveries. There's nothing. Everything and everyone comes in the main door. We could go out a window, but they're five feet off the ground and we'd be sitting ducks while we scrambled out. I don't see the last man making it out."

"How many civilians?"

Alex thought about it. "Five hundred. Give or take."

Ranger didn't like it. Alex was right, their job in getting to their HVT would be easier, but getting out would be messy. Too messy.

"TOC, this is One. Recommending we scrap this mission and regroup."

"Copy, One," Cordero told him. "Continue standing by."

Ranger's knuckles flexed on the steering wheel again.

"Admit it," Dante said to Alex. "You still stopped to cop a feel at some point in there, right?"

Pedro laughed, and Alex gave Dante a middle finger. "Just because you have no self-control doesn't mean no one else does."

Ranger grinned, appreciating that Alex was giving as good as he got. He'd been with them for three years now, and it had taken the kid awhile to open up. Dante was good at getting people out of their shells, which Ranger appreciated. Trust among the team was critical, but had never been among his fortes. He had no doubt that any one of his men would completely trust him at their backs, but he didn't usually open up enough to form deep bonds and brotherhood. Some people needed that, so he left it to Dante.

"One, this is TOC. We'd like to proceed. Repeat, continue mission. Copy?"

"Good copy, TOC. Charlie mike." Ranger took a slow breath, reigning in his annoyance. If Command said push on, they would push on. He didn't have to be happy about it, but did have to give his team confidence in the decision. He didn't like the call, but he would respect it, because Cordero deserved it.

They suited up, which mostly meant that they all donned their bandanas, and Pedro popped in his earbud. They each had at least two handguns, and Ranger had a knife in an ankle holster. He knew Dante would, too; the man was wicked with a blade. Given the change in circumstances, it was especially unfortunate that they didn't have body armor. Another thing that Ranger was unhappy about, but he pushed it aside to focus on the op.

They walked into the nightclub with no problems, although the bouncer clearly would have preferred if they were bringing women in with them. The music was loud and the floor vibrated under their feet. Alex's count had been accurate. The first floor bar was two people deep, and the dance floor was packed.

"Spread out," he said. His voice wouldn't carry over the music, but his men would still hear him in their earbuds. "Blend in, and wait for my mark."

Ranger followed his own advice, letting his body take up the beat while he moved fluidly through the crowd on the dance floor. His goal was to pick a woman to help with his cover while he got close to the private room and scoped it. He had his sights set on a woman in her mid-thirties, dark hair cut short so it flared around her face. She was dancing by herself, flanked by two other women. He was closing in on her when he was intercepted.

A woman stepped in front of him and put her hands on his hips, without breaking the beat. " _Hola, guapo_."

She was fair-skinned with curly brown hair and light, grayish-blueish eyes. He returned the greeting and smiled down at her, moving his hands to her hips to maneuver her more easily through the crowd. He steered them closer to Valdez's private room and got eyes on their target.

Just as Alex said, Valdez had four guards. Two were posted near the entrance, scanning the club. The other two hovered on either side of the couch that Valdez was sitting on. Valdez had his arm around a pretty Latina with long dark hair. Gabriella.

"I've got eyes on our HVT," he said.

The woman in his arms looked up at him. "You speak good English."

Shit. " _¿Habla ingles?_ "

"Yes. I practice English for university."

"You're doing great," he told her.

The woman was telling him about the American television shows she watched to practice her English, but Ranger was busy scoping out Valdez. He was a man that Ranger had been stalking for the past five years, and this was only the second time that he'd ever gotten within twenty yards of him. Nestor Valdez was in his early forties, with dark brown hair that he kept just long enough to push behind his ears. He was 6'2" and built like a linebacker. He moved gracefully and exuded the power that he'd spent he last twenty years of his life amassing.

While he watched, Valdez leaned in close to say something in Gabriella's ear. She smiled at him and patted his chest. Valdez rose. He said something to one of his guards, and then he ambled to the edge of the private space, let himself out through the rope, and disappeared around a corner. One of the guards followed at a distance.

"Six, where does that back hallway lead?"

"Dead ends at restrooms," Alex answered.

The woman Ranger was dancing with was slowly but surely moving her hands closer to his belt buckle. He grabbed her wrists and held them together while his mind conjured a plan. Valdez's guests, the other two couples, were wrapped up in each other. Gabriella was alone on the couch, sipping champagne and scrolling through her phone. The private room didn't appear so private. There were a dozen or so people congregating at high-top tables spread around the couch, and as he watched, a couple came back from he bar and were acknowledged with a simple head nod from one of the guards.

Ranger had a plan percolating. He brought the woman's hands up and brushed his lips against her knuckles." _¿Vives por aquí?_ "

"No. I live near the university," she replied.

About twenty minutes to the west. That was doable. "Who are you here with?"

"My sister. Today is her birthday." She gestured to a woman a few bodies away who was engaged in what looked like a mating ritual with a guy who didn't seem to be repping any colors. "That's her boyfriend."

"Did you come here with anyone else?"

She shook her head. "They won't miss me if you want to leave."

"I do, but I think we should make it a party," he suggested.

"I like parties." She plastered herself against him and pressed her lips to his neck.

Ranger turned her so her back was against his front and brought his mouth down to her ear. "See that girl over there, all alone?"

The woman hesitated slightly, but nodded.

"Want to see if she'd like to join us?"

She craned her neck to look up at him, and he noticed that her pupils were dilated. Hard to say if she was turned on, or just high. " _¿Quieres que la recoja por ti?_ "

He sensed she was balking. He wrapped his arm around her from behind, his hand resting on her stomach. " _Haré que valga la pena._ "

She looked up at him, considering. Desire and uncertainty warred in her eyes, and he moved his hand north, dragging the hem of her shirt up with him. He was an asshole of the highest order, but the clock was ticking. Finally she nodded. He smiled and gave her a nudge in the direction of Valdez's private room. She looked over her shoulder to make sure he was watching, and then she was off on her quest with an extra sway in her hips.

"This is One," he said. "I'm using a civilian to try to lure our HVT out of the private room, onto the dance floor. She's in a green dress, approaching now."

"I've got eyes on her," Dante said. Alex and Pedro echoed.

"We'll take her with us. She has friends at my nine o'clock, purple dress and the man with her in black. Two, secure them. We're taking them, too. I don't want any of them burned."

Cordero spoke in his earbud. "The meticulously planned order of operations wasn't good enough for you, One? You had to call an audible?"

Ranger could picture Cordero back at operations command, staring at their dots on the GPS screen and shaking his head. He had sounded miffed, but at the end of the day, Cordero trusted Ranger to make the right call, and Ranger trusted him to back it up.

Ranger ignored Cordero's comment. His hope was that they could get Gabriella far enough out onto the dance floor and then lure the guards after her so that they had less ground to cover to the door when the shit hit the fan. They'd never get their target out undetected, but that wasn't the goal. They needed to be seen taking her, and they needed Valdez and his men to notice the colors that Ranger and his team were wearing. But his hope was that he could get the guards at least halfway to the door, meaning half of the civilians would be safely behind them when guns started blazing.

Ranger's lady friend was using her charms on one of Valdez's guards, and he watched as the man grinned at her and nodded. She was granted entry to the private room and approached the couch where Gabriella was still occupied with her phone. Gabriella looked up at something the woman said, and she furrowed her brows. Listened. Then her brow raised, and her eyes shot to the dance floor. The lady friend pointed, and Ranger held back a grimace.

"We'll be made any minute," he said to his team. "Six, you've still got the left, and Three, you've got the right. Two, do you have the friends?"

"Affirm. They're with me, and I'm on your six."

"Exfil in place?" he asked.

Xander's affirmative came in his ear. He and Emilio would be idling around the corner from the club, waiting for their cue. Xander was driving the getaway vehicle and Emilio was in the diversion car.

He must've hit his first stroke of luck for the night, because Gabriella was following the curly-haired woman out of the private room. A guard stopped her with a hand on her arm and she turned to talk to him. His eyes scanned the dance floor. Ranger was confident that he and his men were practically invisible in the sea of bodies, but he was still surprised when the guard nodded and let Gabriella go.

Given that Valdez had been attached to Gabriella for nearly four years, Ranger would have thought that he'd be concerned for his girlfriend's wellbeing and would have made crystal clear the consequences for anything happening to her. But hey, that was just him.

"Three, anything from the hallway?"

"Not yet. I've got eyes on the fourth guard, but still no Valdez."

It was becoming clear that something more was going down than Valdez using the restroom, but it wasn't Ranger's job to sweat it. They weren't here for more intel on Valdez's business associates. Not this time, anyway. He kept his eyes on the target.

Gabriella was moving toward him, and two of the guards had broken off and were flanking her at a distance, assimilating into the crowd. He wanted to draw them further back toward the exit, so he caught the curly-haired woman's eye, winked at her, and started to maneuver his way back through the throng. His hips never lost the beat.

Although his eyes were on Gabriella, his attention was on the guards, so he didn't miss the moment they made him. They weren't incompetent - they could see that he was too interested in Gabriella, and he was wearing colors.

"Go, go, go," he said. He was already on the move, and had his hand wrapped around Gabriella's wrist. He wasn't sure how averse the guards would be to shooting her to get to him, so he shielded her with his body. She was resisting, trying to wrestle herself out of his grasp, but he held tight. His Glock was in his hand and trained on one of the guards who was bearing down on him. He knew his teammates would have the other guards. No shots had been fired yet, and only the people in his immediate vicinity were beginning to react to the situation, but before long it would be bedlam. He was hauling ass toward the exit, half dragging and half carrying his target.

A shot rang out to his left, followed by two more. The crowd was screaming, ducking, running for cover. The guard that Ranger had in his sights took a shot. He was still about twenty yards away, and was jostled by the crowd. The shot went wide. Ranger returned fire and the guard collapsed.

"Two, get the sister and the boyfriend out," he commanded. He didn't bother looking over at Dante to see that he would do as instructed.

"This is Three, I've got Valdez over here," Alex said. "He's firing."

"Three, this is TOC. You may wound, but do not kill. Repeat, do not take out Valdez."

Ranger was still shielding Gabriella, making slow progress toward the door. The crowd was panicked, and it was like swimming upstream through molasses. Gunfire rang out to his left, and he turned to see three men advancing toward him. "I've got more Reyes at my ten o'clock."

He returned fire and took out one. A shot zinged past the curly-haired woman, and she shrieked. She stood frozen between Ranger and Los Reyes. Ranger had Gabriella in one hand and his Glock in the other, so he used his body to knock her out of the way of the next shot, and he took it in the shoulder. He grit his teeth against the hot, sharp pain and took out another Reyes.

"One, I'm coming to you."

He made a half turn toward Dante and nodded his head toward the curly-haired woman. "Get her out."

Dante slung an arm around the woman's waist and pulled her along with him while they both retreated. Ranger fired at the last Reyes and watched him stumble, then focused on getting the hell out of there.

Pedro was at the door, covering their exit. Alex was still holding down Valdez, and Ranger called him back. They all spilled into the street and Ranger shoved Gabriella at Dante to get into the van along with the other civilians. He called out for Pedro to fall back, and Ranger covered them while everyone piled into the vehicle. He was the last one in, and pulled the door closed while a few more Reyes and Valdez's last guard stumbled out of the club. The van was peppered as they pulled away, but they had impact-resistant windows.

"Jackpot," Ranger confirmed for TOC. "Target secured. Team has been exfilled."

"Copy, One," Cordero said. "Good work."

Four hours later, Ranger exited the board room and walked down the hallway of the compound to take his shift on watch over Gabriella's room. His shoulder had been stitched up and the med ward had given him a sling. His men had a pool going for how long it would be before he ditched the sling. They'd tried to be covert about it, but Ranger knew that Dante's money was on six hours. Of course, that meant Ranger would wear it for as long as he needed just to give his friend shit.

The AAR was kept quick, and Ranger had managed not to bite Margeaux's head off in the debriefing room. Logically, he knew the bad intel about the private party wasn't her fault, and as a general rule he tried not to kill the messenger.

Dante looked up when Ranger turned the corner. "You coming to relieve me of babysitting duty?"

"Yeah. How's she doing?"

Dante shrugged. "Not bad, all considered. The victim's advocate was here, and explained the deal to her and what's going to happen from here. She hasn't gotten hysterical, so maybe that's coming, but I doubt it. She seems level-headed. It's been quiet in there for awhile, so maybe she's sleeping."

"Good for her."

"You know, sometimes when you pull shit like that on an op, I can't decide if you're bat-shit crazy or a fucking genius. How the hell did you even find that woman so fast, let alone convince her to nab Gabriella?"

"She found me. She nearly stuck her hand down my pants, and then I told her I wanted to bring Gabriella home with us for our own private party."

Dante barked out a laugh. "Of course. Only you, jefe."

"Go get some shut-eye. We're wheels-up in four hours, 06:00."

"What are you going to tell your Rangeman guys back home about your new accessory?" Dante asked, nodding to his sling.

Ranger smiled. "You're just trying to get me to take it off so you'll win the pool. Nice try, but no dice. I won't tell them anything, because they know better than to ask."

Dante turned to head back down the hallway toward the barracks, but hesitated. He turned back to face Ranger. "We've never been that close to Valdez before."

Ranger eyed his second-in-command. "I know."

"I really wish it could be him in that room."

Ranger nodded toward the end of the hall, and Dante followed him. On the off chance that she wasn't sleeping, he didn't want to risk Gabriella overhearing anything. He weighed his words carefully and kept his voice low.

"I hear you. But this is a step in the right direction," he said. "Intelligence said we needed Gabriella for when we finally drag the cabrón to trial, and I get that. A pretty young woman with firsthand knowledge of Valdez's atrocities will go a long way with juries. In the meantime, we've still got bits and pieces of intel coming in that are connecting the dots, so when we do take down Valdez, we'll take his whole operation down with him."

Dante stared down at his boot for a moment, but then nodded. He turned and retreated to the barracks while Ranger took up his stance outside Gabriella's room.

He sympathized with Dante. Dante had been on this team for longer than Ranger, and they'd been tracking Nestor Valdez for nearly as long as either of them could remember. Valdez was slippery - but then, you're not a successful cartel leader if you're easily pinned-down. He was good at staying invisible, and the few leads that the team had managed to gain over the years had a way of evaporating.

Dante had been on guard duty the night the team had captured Frederico Esquivel. Esquivel had been Valdez's right hand, and his capture was intended to be a checkmate for Valdez. And it would have been, until Los Reyes managed to infiltrate the compound, incapacitate Dante, and kill Esquivel before the team could extradite him. Ranger knew that Dante carried guilt about that night. Hell, Ranger did, too. But he was used to guilt.

At least two of the Reyes that Ranger had fired on tonight were critical hits. He added two more lives to his mental tally. He couldn't justify accounting for saving the life of the woman he'd put in danger, so she didn't factor into the score. One step forward, two steps back. It was the story of his life.

###

Nearly twenty-four hours later, Ranger was ravenous, exhausted, and his shoulder was killing him. He'd caught a couple hours of sleep on the plane, but then had been stuck on hand-holding duty while Gabriella was transferred over to the Marshals. He'd been given pain meds, but he'd declined them, needing to stay sharp for the transport.

He pulled into the underground parking garage at Rangeman and eased into his familiar parking spot. He turned off the engine and sat looking at the elevator. He needed food. He needed sleep. He needed some heavy-duty ibuprofen.

All of those things could be found upstairs in his apartment. He'd had this same homecoming dozens of times over the past few years. He would head upstairs, drop his bags. He didn't even have to deal with unpacking; Ella would handle that in the morning. He'd help himself to a sandwich that would be waiting for him in his refrigerator. He'd fall into bed and would lie awake for a couple hours, readjusting to home. Or whatever semblance he had. He'd have a fitful nights' sleep, waking every half hour on high alert. And then he'd get up in the morning and restart his normal life.

He couldn't get excited about any of that. Not the empty apartment awaiting him, nor the artfully-prepared sandwich, nor the cool, crisp sheets on his bed. Ranger restarted the car. The clock on the dash read 2:45 AM. He pulled back out of the garage and swung onto Hamilton.

He planned on using the drive to convince himself that this wasn't a good idea. And then, when he parked in the lot, he told himself he'd just sit there for a few minutes and make sure all was quiet. And then, when he let himself into the apartment, he told himself he'd just check on her quickly, quietly, before he let himself back out. And then, when she awoke and asked him if he'd like to stay, he told himself it was just this once.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Eight months later_

There comes a time in a woman's life when she starts to question the decisions she's made. For me, that time was three years ago. I must not have been asking the right questions, because somehow I keep ending up sprawled across the ground, trying to catch my breath while also trying hard not to think about the various squishy substances beneath me.

My name is Stephanie Plum, and I wish I could say that I don't know how things like this keep happening to me. But the ugly truth is that I'm just not that good at my job. There are some people who are underemployed, as in their job doesn't take full advantage of their expertise. My suspicion is that I'm _over_ employed. There are certain skill sets that are necessary to be a successful bond apprehension agent, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't seem to master them.

Okay, I'll be honest - maybe I hadn't yet given it my _best_ effort. Probably I could try a little harder at things like physical fitness, carrying my gun, and making sure my pepper spray canister stayed full.

It's not that I'm a complete failure. My job is to bring 'em in dead or alive, and I'm happy to say that my track record is at least 95% alive. And I suppose another good thing is that I _do_ eventually bring 'em in. I just wished it wasn't so often that I brought 'em in naked, or sopping wet, or with one or both of us covered in garbage or other undesirable substances.

I was almost glad that Lenny Bennett had slipped away from me. This would have been another tick in the covered-in-garbage column.

Lenny was arrested for shoplifting three full hams from Giovichinni's deli. The whole situation didn't exactly scream _criminal mastermind_ , so I'd thought he would be an easy capture _._ In my mind's eye, I had knocked on his door, politely explained that he'd missed his court appearance, and generously offered to drive him to the courthouse so he could reschedule. The missing information I hadn't had at the time was that Bobby Stanton was Lenny's cousin. I'd hauled in Bobby Stanton a few months back. Bobby had told Lenny about his own experience of being unable to make bond on the second go-around and having to spend two weeks in jail until his next court date. Turned out, Lenny wasn't keen on spending the night in jail.

I'd learned all of this when Lenny shouted it at me while I chased him around his apartment. I'd had the foresight to keep Lula on watch at the front door to keep Lenny from escaping, but we didn't have enough bodies to guard the fire escape. I'd chased Lenny down the fire escape and into the alley behind his apartment building. Lenny tried to slow me down by tossing garbage cans into my path, and unfortunately for both of us, it was garbage day and the truck hadn't collected yet. Garbage bags spilled open left and right, and it wasn't long before Lenny tripped himself in the mess he was creating, and we both went down. The wind was knocked out of me when I tried tackling Lenny, and he took the opportunity to scramble to his feet and run away.

The back of his t-shirt was covered in chunky brown goop that I was promising myself was beef stew. I laid there for a couple minutes after watching Lenny's back disappear around the corner, trying to find the motivation to get up.

"I guess Lenny Bennett is more wily than we thought."

I craned my neck up to see Lula amble around from the front of the building. "Guess so."

"We should have known, seeing as how he shoplifted three whole hams. Two, sure, I can see that. But _three_ hams? He's only got two hands, so how's he manage the third one? That there takes skill. I suppose you gotta be pretty wily to manage to walk away with three big hams."

Lula is a former 'ho and hasn't quite found her new calling yet. She works full-time as a file clerk at Vincent Plum Bail Bonds, and part-time as an apprentice bond apprehension agent slash sidekick. She's underemployed as a file clerk, but definitely overemployed as an apprentice bounty hunter. But at least the sidekick part was just right for Lula.

"You okay? Can you move?" she asked.

"Yeah, I can move. I'm just taking a minute."

"Hunh. If it were me, I'd be more eager to get out of that garbage pile. I'm glad it's not me that's in that garbage pile, seeing as this is a brand new outfit." She ran her hands over her hot pink romper that was working valiantly to contain just enough of Lula to keep her from getting ticketed for indecent exposure. "I suppose you're lucky that you won't miss this outfit you've got on. Probably it'll be best to just throw this outfit away rather than trying to get that brown gunk out of it."

I was actually wearing one of my favorite stretchy t-shirts, but Lula was probably right. I hoped that at least my shoes were salvageable. I was tight on cash at the moment, and I didn't want to have to spend next month's Tasty Pastry budget on new shoes.

"Give me a hand?"

Lula stepped carefully through the garbage strewn across the asphalt, and she was careful where she touched me while she hauled me to my feet. "Whoo boy." She stepped back and waved her hand in front of her face. "I'm starting to think I know what that brown gunk is, but on account of you're the one wearing it in your hair, I'm not gonna be rude and point it out."

"It's stew," I told her. I was in deep denial. When you're overemployed like me, you learn to use denial as a comfy cloak that you can cuddle inside when things become too overwhelming or too scary or too gross.

We came out of the alley and found a black-and-white parked in front of the apartment complex, right behind my POS Honda. It was empty, and Lula and I both wordlessly picked up the pace, having a renewed sense of urgency to get out of dodge.

"I thought that was your car."

I turned to see Carl Costanza and Big Dog exiting Lenny's apartment building. Carl and Big Dog were both uniform cops with the Trenton PD, and had been partners for so long that they finished each other's sentences. Or they would, if Big Dog could ever get a word in edgewise. Carl did most of the talking for both of them, at least when I was around. Could be that Carl just enjoyed giving me a hard time.

"This car is new," I said. "You haven't even seen me in this car yet."

"I guess it just looks like a car that would belong to you."

That was the saddest statement I'd heard all day. Even moreso because it was probably true. My car had started life as an '89 Honda Civic, and it still sort of resembled one, but it was missing a rear bumper and rear quarter panel. It was mostly magenta, except for the driver's side door that may have been white at one time but probably not when it was added to the car. It looked like it had been pulled from a landfill.

I let a sigh escape. "Dealin' Dan the Used Car Man said this car was a good fit for me. He also gave me a good price."

"Dealin' Dan did you wrong," Carl said. "And if it were me, there would be no price good enough to get me to drive this hunk of junk off the lot. Although I guess if you have to drive around covered in garbage and god-knows-what-else, then you may as well be driving in a car like this."

"It's stew," I said.

Carl jerked his thumb back toward the apartment building he'd just exited. "Mrs. Kowicki in 3B called in a domestic disturbance. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Nu-uh," Lula said. She was inching away toward the car. Tough to say if it was because of her aversion to cops, or if it was because of the smell I was carrying. "We didn't hear no disturbance. Did you hear a disturbance, Stephanie?"

"Nope."

"Just checking," Carl said. "We'll write this up as a false alarm. Happens all the time."

Carl and Big Dog angled back into their patrol car and motored down Madison, off to continue protecting the city of Trenton from itself. Lula and I motored off in the opposite direction. Our motoring was a little more conspicuous since my Honda was having some mild muffler problems. We pulled up in front of the bonds office, and Lula looked over at me when I didn't turn the car off.

"Aren't you coming in?"

"No. I'm dropping you off and then I'm going home to take a shower." And possibly take a bath in some bleach.

"Don't you have that body receipt for Milton Carmichael? Figured you'd at least want to come in and get your cash."

"I can wait until tomorrow."

"Sure, but a certain percent of that cash is mine, seeing as I was an integral part of the capture and all, and I was really counting on that money tonight. I was gonna stop by the mall and make a final payment on a handbag I got on layaway."

I reluctantly slid out of the car, moving gingerly - I'd already felt a bit of stew sliding down the back of my shirt, and I wanted to make sure no more made it in there. Connie glanced up from her desk when we walked into the bonds office, and then did a double-take. "Is that…"

"Stew," I told her.

"If you say so. How'd it go today?"

"One for two. We got Carmichael. Bennett evaded us."

"One for two isn't bad." Connie took my body receipt and pulled out her checkbook while I waited.

"That's the spirit. I appreciate your positive outlook," Lula said. "Stephanie here has been more of a glass-half-empty person lately. I remember when you were always seeing the glass as half full. That was more fun. That's how I prefer to approach things."

"Next time, you can be the one to tackle the guy in garbage, and then we'll see how positive you're feeling afterward."

"Hunh. I know what your problem is."

"Today, my problem was Lenny Bennett."

Lula shook her head. "Nu-uh. You got bigger problems than Lenny Bennett. Your problem is that you're not gettin' any."

Connie looked up from writing my check. "You're still on the outs with Morelli?"

"We're in an 'off' stage of on-again, off-again," I said. Connie and Lula exchanged looks, and I narrowed my eyes. "What? What is that look?"

"I didn't realize you were still broken up," Connie said.

"What she's trying to say is that we didn't know the rumors about Officer Hottie and Lauren Lovick were true."

Connie glared at Lula. "That's what I was trying _not_ to say."

I'd heard the rumors, too. Everyone had heard the rumors - this was the Burg. Gossip was the glue that held the whole neighborhood together. That, and Entemann's coffee cake.

"So, are they?" Lula asked.

"I don't know. I don't think so, but even if they were, Morelli and I have an agreement. Even when we're 'on again', we can see other people if we want." The unwritten part of the agreement was that neither of us actually _did_ see other people, but maybe I was wrong about that.

"Sure, but everybody knows that agreement is just so you can still sleep with Ranger and Morelli don't have to shoot him."

I gaped at her. "I'm not sleeping with Ranger!"

"Of course not," Connie said. "He's out of town."

That was true, but it wasn't the only reason. Ranger and I had had a handful of romantic encounters in the past, but he had made sure the expectations between us were very clear from the beginning - as in, I shouldn't have any. His life doesn't lend itself to a nice little house in the Burg with 2.5 kids and a cheery mailbox. To be honest, my life doesn't fit in that house either, but I'd been thinking lately that maybe it was time for me to make more of an effort.

"Uh-huh. Now I see it. With Ranger being in the wind for a couple weeks now and you still being on the outs with Morelli, I can see where you got this whole glass-half-empty attitude. I get that way too if it's been awhile without some romantic time."

"My love life, or lack thereof, doesn't have anything to do with my glass-half-empty attitude. Which I'm not even admitting to having. But if I did, I'd say it's for sure because of Lenny Bennett and the garbage."

"The lack of romantic time can't be helping, is all I'm saying."

Vinnie stuck his head out of his office. "What's going on out here? Do I pay you to stand around and talk about your pathetic love life? No! Where are my skips? You should be out there hauling these jackasses back into the system so I can get my money!"

I grit my teeth. "You think you're the only one who needs money? Well, you're not! I'm trying, okay?"

"Jeez, what's that god-awful smell out here?" Vinnie looked me over and his lips curled back. "Is that…"

" _It's stew!"_ I cried. My eyes were squinched shut and my arms were flapping. "It's stew, okay? Can't a girl have an accident with some garbage without everyone feeling the need to comment?"

"Just saying. It smells like that's not the only kind of accident you had."

I lunged at Vinnie, and he dove back into his office. I kicked his door and I may have shrieked a little.

Lula had backed up a couple steps. "I stand by what I said. Your romantic life's got you all on edge."

"It's not my romantic life. It's just my _life!_ " I cried. "Look at me! I'm covered in… _stew!_ I _hate_ when this happens!"

"To be fair, you've been doing this for a few years now, and this is only the second time you've ended up covered in… you know."

I shot Connie a glare that should've had her cowering under her desk, but Connie was hearty Italian stock. It took more than a Burg death glare to faze Connie.

"Yeah, I think what you need is to look on the bright side," Lula said.

Connie and I both looked at her. Waiting.

"I'm sure we can think of one," she said.

"What I _need_ is a new job!"

"You always say that," Lula said. "And yet here you still are."

"Exactly! I'm sick of it! I mean it this time. I want a new job, and I want a new life."

Connie was starting to look panicked. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I'm no good at this job, and I'm sick of it. I'm barely scraping by. I'm behind on my rent, and I probably need new shoes, and I'm not going to have any money leftover for donuts. _I need donuts!"_

"Yep, that sounds pretty serious," Lula agreed. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I'm not sure." I deflated and sank into the chair across from Connie's desk. To my horror, a tear squeezed out of my eye.

Connie snapped into crisis management. "Tell you what. As long as you promise to bring in all of the current open cases, and give me some time to find a new apprehension agent, then Lula and I will help you with this."

"I _need_ to bring them in. I need the cash. Even when I find a new job, I'm not going to bring in my first paycheck for a couple of weeks." Truth be told, it wasn't only my Tasty Pastry budget that was in jeopardy.

"It's a deal, then." Connie brought out a pad of paper and a pen. "So they say that the first step to changing your life is admitting that you have a problem."

"See, that's good news," Lula said. "You're already done with step one, and that was easy."

"What's next?"

"Probably we need to figure out a few more steps to this plan. Usually there are twelve steps, but that's for when your life is _really_ bad."

I gestured at myself. "How is this not _really bad_?"

"She means like when you're addicted to drugs or booze or sex," Lula said. "You don't got any of that going on. Probably you only need like three steps."

"That sounds about right." Connie wrote out a numbered list on her pad of paper. "So what's first?"

"I want to find a job I'm good at, and that has zero potential for rolling around in garbage."

"Knowing your track record, that might exclude a lot of things," Lula said. "Maybe you want to be a little more open-minded."

I ignored her. "Once I have the new job, I'm going to settle down."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Hell if I knew. "It means I'm going to learn to cook, and possibly bake, and I'm going to get a freaking toaster, and probably I'll get married."

"Boy, Mrs. P is gonna be real happy to hear that. Who are you gonna settle down with?"

"Morelli, of course."

"Does he know that? I thought you two were on the outs."

"He doesn't know yet, but he will soon. That's not until step two, right?" I looked to Connie to verify.

"Right. You'll make it work with him after you get the new job. Probably that will be easier, anyway. Everyone knows how he hates your job."

"Does Lauren Lovick know any of this?" Lula asked.

Connie shot Lula a look that put my Burg death stare to shame. I gave a sigh.

"That's two steps," Connie said. "What's the third?"

"I don't know. I guess, live happily ever after."

"Perfect. Then that's it. Here's your 3-step plan." She ripped the top leaf off her pad of paper and handed it to me.

"Freakin' A!" Lula said. "I'm getting into this now! Look at you go! You're a woman with a plan!"

"Find a job I'm good at. Make it work with Morelli. Live happily ever after," I recited. "It's my F.M.L. plan."

Connie grimaced. "Probably you can think of a new name later."

"Here's some good news," Lula said. "Things are looking up for you already. Here comes Office Hottie now."

I looked out the window in time to see Morelli's SUV slide to the curb behind my Honda. I took my check from Connie, but she stopped me before I could leave.

"I have another FTA for you," she said, handing me a file folder. She saw my protestation coming and cut me off. "This can be your last one while you're on Step One of your plan."

It felt light. "Who is it?"

"The name is Gabriella Ayala. We don't have much on her. As far as I can tell, she's new in town, and she's a first-time offender. She was picked up for buying drugs at the corner of Stark and Twelfth."

"That's a real bad corner," Lula said. "Count me out. I don't want nothing to do with sniffing around Stark and Twelfth."

I stuffed the file into my bag along with a few others that were languishing in there. "Anything else? Otherwise, I'm headed home. Or possibly to the nearest car wash. Do you think they'd let me just walk through?"

"Good luck with that," Connie said.

I said goodbye to Connie and Lula and stepped outside. While I let my eyes adjust to the sunlight, I contemplated my chances of getting into my car before Morelli could confront me. Or smell me. It wasn't exactly my finest moment.

He was leaning against my car, ankles and arms crossed. He was six feet of hard muscle, high libido, and Italian attitude. I waited for the rush of heat I usually got from seeing Morelli waiting for me, but the rush didn't come. Probably my own libido was a little on the low side because of the stew and the resulting mental health breakdown.

"Is this a social call?" I asked him.

"Carl told me that you were a domestic disturbance at the Fox Run apartments this afternoon."

Joe Morelli was a plainclothes cop working crimes against persons. Like Morelli and me, half of the Trenton PD grew up in the Burg. Juicy gossip was what kept the job bearable. Everyone knew Morelli and I had been seeing each other off and on for years, so every time I had a run-in with one of Trenton's finest, he had the pleasure of hearing about it from a dozen different angles.

"In other words, he told you about the garbage and you needed to come see for yourself. Must be a slow day."

"We're a little low on our murder quota this week." He took a step closer and eyed me warily. "What the hell is -"

My hands clenched into fists. " _I don't want to talk about it_."

"Do you need some plastic bags or anything? Something to sit on until you get home?"

"That's okay. I already sat in the car." I looked behind him at my hunk of junk at the curb. "I just got a new skip who hangs out on Stark. Maybe I'll get lucky, and someone will steal the car while I go looking for her."

"I hate to break it to you, but there's no way anyone is going to want that car."

"Maybe I can get someone to blow it up, then."

I'd been kidding, but Morelli gave a sigh. It was a sound of resignation, and I'd heard it plenty of times before. Even though we were 'off again', Morelli didn't like to think about my cars - or especially me - getting blown up.

That was a big part of the reason that we weren't currently cohabiting. He was in agreement that I was overemployed in my current job, and was waiting for me to get a nice, safe position at the button factory. Pretty sure he'd also be okay if my job title changed to Housewife. Morelli already had the little house and the mailbox, and I was starting to think that he wouldn't mind the 2.5 kids to complete the picture. Morelli was a couple years older than me, but he was lightyears ahead in the domestic department. He was waiting for me to catch up, but a few weeks ago his momentary lapse in patience had led to a yelling match in his kitchen. This was the first time I'd seen him since.

"Your life sucks," he finally said.

"Excuse me? Who gave you the right to judge?" Just because I'd come to the same conclusion didn't mean that I appreciated him pointing it out.

"You're making jokes about car bombs, and I'm afraid that you've started to think that this kind of thing is normal. I'm here to tell you, it's not."

I moved to push past him to my car, but he grabbed my wrist.

"You'll be careful on Stark, right?"

"I'm always careful."

"I wish I could believe that, but I know you too well."

He was too close, and I didn't want him to associate me with the stew smell. "I need to get home and shower."

Morelli held my gaze for a few more beats before he released my wrist. "See you later."

I watched him climb back into his car, and I followed suit. I'd thought for a minute there that he was coming in for a kiss, but nope. He also hadn't offered to help me in the shower. I wasn't sure if it was the stew smell that put him off, or our questionable relationships status, or the talk of car bombings.

Or maybe Connie and Lula and Gina Giovichinni and Mary Lou and my mother were all right - maybe Morelli was seeing Lauren Lovick. It was sort of easy to picture.

Lauren graduated two years behind me, so we weren't close, but everyone knew Lauren. She was the girl who mothers far and wide put on a pedestal. _Lauren Brandon just met a nice boy from a fraternity. Don't you think you'd like to join a sorority so you could meet someone that way?_ And then after college, _I heard that Lauren Brandon is working as an accountant for Knights Construction. Maybe they have job openings?_ And then most recently, _I bet Lauren Brandon's mother never gets calls about Lauren burning down a funeral home._

Lauren Brandon became Lauren Lovick when she married Dean Lovick, that same nice boy from the fraternity. Dean died in a car accident two years ago, while Lauren was five months pregnant. Those same mothers all across the Burg pitched in to make sure Lauren had everything she needed while raising little Brady. Now that a respectable amount of time had passed since her husband's death, Lauren had become a hot commodity, a final hope for those sons who weren't yet married off. She even came with a bonus, guaranteed grandchild. I was half afraid that my mother might try to set _me_ up with Lauren.

I was only a few blocks from my parents' house, and I decided to detour. I couldn't stand another fifteen minutes in the car with the stew smell. I needed an emergency shower. My mother would surely take one look at me and head straight for the cabinet where she kept the whiskey, but probably she was going to drink tonight anyway. Plus, it was only an hour until dinner. I could mooch some food and eat in peace, since my mother wouldn't have enough time to recruit an eligible bachelor to join us on such short notice.


	3. Chapter 2

I really needed to stop overestimating my luck. Or maybe I’d underestimated my mother’s motivation to get me married off. Morelli had been conspicuously absent from dinners for several weeks in a row, and apparently my mother felt she needed to start hedging her bets. I was keeping my gaze focused on my plate, and I was shoveling in pot roast as quickly as possible.

“What’s it like to lead a life of crime?” Grandma Mazur asked.

Lenny Bennett sat to my right, and he answered Grandma’s question thoughtfully. “It’s more difficult than I expected. You’ve got to be constantly on alert.”

“I could see that. I suppose there are always gonna be people after you, whether it be cops, or the people you steal from.”

“Yeah, or bounty hunters,” Lenny said.

I ignored the twitching in my eye and reached for another helping of mashed potatoes.

“Take today, for instance,” Lenny continued. “I hear a knock on my door and I answer, thinking I’m about to get a delivery, but instead it’s Stephanie and she starts chasing me around my house, telling me I’m going to rot in jail.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I know exactly what that jail is like. I’ve heard all about it. I’m thinking, no way do I want to go sit in that jail. I don’t want to end up being a bitch for some big hunking guy named Billy.”

“I’ve always wondered what it’s like in jail,” Grandma said. “Like I wonder how they choose who’s going to be the bitch and who gets to be the stud.”

“Good lord,” my mother mumbled. This wasn’t going the way she’d envisioned. 

I’d taken an extra-long shower, using up all the hot water to try to sterilize myself. I’d used my shirt to mop up as much stew residue as possible before stuffing my clothes into a garbage bag. By the time I’d come back downstairs, my skin was pink but squeaky clean, it was ten minutes till dinner, and Lenny Bennett was watching television with my father.

I’d attempted to sneak back up the stairs, planning on using my tried-and-true escape route out the bathroom window. But my mother had spotted me and held me hostage by threatening to withhold dessert. She’d made my favorite, pineapple upside-down cake with extra whipped cream. I was effectively stuck.

So here I sat next to Lenny, who was dressed up for the occasion in khakis and a button-down shirt. His buttons were misaligned, so one side of his collar sat higher than the other.

“If you didn’t want to go to jail, then why didn’t you just show up for your court date and pay the fine?” I asked him. “Or for that matter, why steal the hams in the first place?”

“Same answer to both questions. Money. As in, I don’t have any. I lost my job last month, and ever since then it’s been a real struggle to make ends meet.”

I could relate, but it still wasn’t adding up. “How was stealing three hams from the market supposed to help you?”

“It was all part of the marketing plan. My partner and I, we have this inventory issue, and my idea was to host a pop-up sale with a catered lunch. We had everything we needed, except for the ham. Only we couldn’t afford to pay for the ham, because all we have so far is inventory. We needed the ham to help us convert the inventory to cash.”

“You have a partner?” I asked warily.

“Yeah. I used to work in marketing in the manufacturing industry, until I was laid off. So I was looking for a new job, and I saw an ad that The Dealer was looking for a marketing expert. I responded to the ad, and that’s how I got hooked up with my partner.”

I had a sinking feeling that I knew Lenny’s partner. I’d gone to high school with Dougie ‘The Dealer’ Kruper. Dougie specialized in sales and he did a pretty good trade among the type of crowd who valued a good price and didn’t look too closely at where the product came from. He mostly sold stuff that had fallen off a truck somewhere. Maybe he sold some weed occasionally, too, but the ham was something new.

“We got dessert?” My father had cleared his plate and was looking around expectantly. He blinked at Lenny, seeing him for the first time. “Who are you?”

My mother was already hustling into the kitchen, and moments later she set the pineapple upside-down cake on the table and cut off a slice for my father. 

“Lenny here was supposed to be Stephanie’s date, except I don’t think it’s gonna work out since she’s about to cart him off to jail,” Grandma said.

Lenny paled and looked at me. “Oh, jeez. You’re not going to try to bring me to jail again, are you?”

“Not tonight,” I told him. “All I want to do is eat my cake and then go home. I only just got rid of the beef stew smell.”

“Is that the stuff that we got all over us?” Lenny wondered. “That wouldn’t have been my first guess.”

When I left my parents’ house thirty-five minutes later, I had a bag with leftover pot roast and mashed potatoes, a loaf of bread from Italian Peoples, a block of provolone, half a pound each of roast beef and capicola, and a quarter of the pineapple upside-down cake. I was telling myself that it was okay that I didn’t make an effort to capture Lenny tonight, because it would have upset my mother and she wouldn’t have given me the rest of the cake. I would much rather have the cake.

My car drove itself a few blocks out of my way until I found myself sitting in front of Morelli’s house. Morelli had inherited his house from his Aunt Rose and had slowly made it his own. At first I hadn’t been able to reconcile Morelli living in this little suburban house that was so much like my parents’, but somehow Morelli and the house had adapted to each other and met in the middle. It suited him. 

I pictured walking up to the house, letting myself in, and bracing for aggressive adoration from Bob, Morelli’s shaggy orange dog. Bob gave the best greetings. Problem was, I wasn’t confident in the type of greeting I’d get from Morelli. I wasn’t even sure I knew what type of greeting I hoped for.

So instead, I drove home to my red brick apartment building. The lights were off in my unit. There would be no shaggy orange Bob to show me he missed me. No one waiting for me on the couch with a cold beer, ready to hear about my day.

Just as well, I told myself. If I had someone waiting for me at home, then I’d probably have to share my leftovers. That’s why my only roommate was Rex, my hamster. He would eat the carrots that came with the pot roast, and I’d get to keep everything else to myself.

Of all the roommates I’d ever had, Rex was the only one who’d stuck. I’d been married once, and that had lasted all of about 15 minutes. Grandma Mazur had moved in briefly, and that was sort of fun. For about 16 hours. Then the snoring started, and the fun was over. Same with Lula - her snoring was like a freight train. And don’t even get me started on when Joyce Barnhardt had helped herself to my couch.

I’d also briefly moved in with Ranger on a couple of occasions. Living with Ranger was… well, easy. Maybe too easy. I’d gotten to see how the other half lives. Ranger had a housekeeper who made his life run smoothly. His apartment was always immaculate, the bed made itself, and there was always food in the fridge. Granted, the food wasn’t the highlight - the man didn’t know much about eating, but he made up for it in other areas.

My most successful roommate relationship to date was with Morrelli. We’d tried living together off and on, and we’d experienced moderate success. We’d get through stretches of a few months when everything seemed like it was going okay, but sooner or later one of us always cracked. We would start arguing over something insignificant, and before we knew it, we were questioning both of our sanity for ever thinking that we could peacefully coexist.

I loved Morelli. I really did. Morelli was fun and sexy and comfortable, and on most days he loved me back. He was a great cop and he’d managed to break out of the cycle of barroom brawling and philandering that the other Morelli men perpetuated. Despite his relatives not always being the brightest crayons in the box, Morelli was also a good son, and brother, and cousin. He was reliable and protective. Morelli was like pot roast - warm and hearty and delicious. Plus he had Bob.

Any girl would be lucky to end up with Morelli. So I wasn’t sure why the idea of getting to Step Two in my F.M.L. plan made me feel sort of lightheaded and panicky. 

I dropped a carrot and a glob of mashed potatoes into Rex’s food dish. He rushed out of his soup can home, blinked his beady eyes at me, and then shoved the potatoes in his cheeks and rushed back into his soup can. That was an effusive welcome home from Rex.

I looked in the refrigerator, just on the off chance that a six-pack of beer had materialized. No such luck, so I sank onto the couch, beer-less, and flipped aimlessly through the channels. 

Morelli always had beer. That was another tick in the pro column for living with Morelli. He kept his fridge and pantry well-stocked, and his mother and grandmother tended to drop a casserole off about once a week. Morelli’s relatives were a tick in the con column, but then again, who was I to judge his family? My grandma didn’t go around cursing people with Italian voodoo, but she could be a little scary in her own right.

There was nothing worthwhile on television. It was a little past nine on a Friday night. I could either haul out my laptop and do some research on my stack of FTAs, or I could go to bed early. I voted for bed. 

###

I jerked awake from a nightmare, and then froze. One minute I’d been dreaming about 2.5 little black-haired, blue-eyed bambinos screaming through the house, and then I was back to lying in my blissfully quiet bed. The only problem was the sensation that I wasn’t alone.

My bedroom was still pitch black and if I had to guess, I’d say it was at least a few hours until dawn. I fought to keep my breathing steady while I did my best to see into the darkness, but that was a skill that I’d not yet mastered. The warm, tingly feeling on the back of my neck was what kept me from panicking.

“It’s me,” the darkness told me. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

I rolled over toward the familiar voice in time to see a particularly dense spot of shadows rise from the chair across from my bed and become Ranger.

“You’re back.” My sleep-addled brain couldn’t handle anything more than the obvious. I was too tired to yell at him for breaking into my apartment. History had proven that it didn’t do me any good, anyway.

“I’m back,” he confirmed quietly. Ever the eager conversationalist.

He continued standing there, looking down at me. There was a time when Ranger appearing in my bedroom in the middle of the night meant there was some sort of emergency that required us to spring into action. At some point, though, that had changed. So when he didn’t announce a catastrophe that would require me to get out of bed, I relaxed back into my pillows and pulled back the covers next to me. It was a silent invitation, and he took it. I heard the rustle of fabric as he pulled his shirt over his head, and then a muffled clunk when his pants and belt and probably also a gun hit the floor. He must have already kicked off his shoes, because he was easing into the bed beside me.

I couldn’t pinpoint when the circumstances of Ranger’s late-night visits had shifted. But Ranger wasn’t one to volunteer information and I didn’t have the energy to play twenty questions in the wee hours of the morning. I curled back onto my side, my eyes already closed again. I felt the warmth of him press against my back, and thought I remembered the weight of an arm settling around me, but then there was blissful sleep.

###

The next time I awoke, sunlight was pushing its way past the curtains. My t-shirt was up around my ribcage and Ranger’s hand was splayed across my bare stomach. His pinky finger rested on the lace band of my underwear and his breathing was slow and steady behind me. I peeked over my shoulder to see him still asleep. Just as well, since it would be a really bad idea to act on the fluttery feelings I was getting low in my belly.

Ever so slowly I eased out from under his arm with my eyes shut tight. When I was on my feet I held my breath for a couple seconds before I glanced over my shoulder. Still asleep. Mission accomplished. I took care of business in the bathroom, going so far as to brush my teeth and run my fingers through my hair in deference to current company. 

When I emerged, Ranger had rolled over onto his back. The sheets were pooled around his hips, revealing a lot of dark skin and many, many ridges and divots. Ranger had definition in muscles that I didn’t even know existed. He also had deep bruises spread across the right side of his ribs. Better than the last time he rode back into town with a knife wound in his thigh, or the time before that when he’d taken a bullet in his shoulder.

This was the third time that he’d shown up at my apartment in the middle of the night after being out of town. Curiosity burned, but Ranger hadn’t been in a sharing mood either of the last two times, and I doubted this morning would be any different. Probably it was the kind of thing where if he told me, he’d have to kill me. I was better off not knowing.

That was what I’d almost convinced myself by the time I heard Ranger stirring in the bedroom. When he opened the door, he was dressed again in his standard Rangeman uniform - black cargo pants, black t-shirt, black boots. He set his nylon gun belt with his Glock on the kitchen counter and helped himself to a sip of my coffee.

“I heard that there was a coup in Guyana a couple weeks ago,” I told him.

“I hadn’t heard.”

“Sure. I hope you at least had time to swing by the famous Kaieteur Falls. I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year.”

He looked at me and I got the impression that he was thinking about smiling. Ranger finds my curiosity amusing. It was probably a foreign concept to him. “I wasn’t in Guyana.”

“So it was the hostage crisis in Bahrain?” 

“Colder.” 

Interesting. He reached for my coffee again but I pulled it away, so he went to the cupboard for a mug of his own.

“Every time you leave town, Lula and Connie start watching CNN,” I said. “And I become much more familiar with international affairs.”

“The things I do when I leave town aren’t usually the kinds of things you see on the news.”

And that was a big part of the reason that Ranger’s life wasn’t suited for the little house with the mailbox and the 2.5 kids. Every once in awhile, Ranger disappears. He’d been doing it for as long as I’d known him. No one knew where he went or what he did, and sometimes he came back with bullet holes. 

“Why have I had Rangeman guys tailing me off and on the past couple weeks?”

“I suspect it’s because Tank doesn’t want to have to tell me that you got injured or blown up on his watch.”

I got up to retrieve an envelope that was stuck to the fridge with a magnet. “By the way, this is for Hal. I was going to mail it, but since you’re here, you can bring it to him.”

“You and Hal are pen pals now?”

“He helped me with one of my captures. This is his percentage of the fee.”

“Babe.” Ranger’s mouth tipped into a smile. “You don’t need to do that. Helping you with FTAs is part of the job description.”

“Yeah, but this time Hal ended up wearing an extra-large strawberry shake from Cluck-in-a-Bucket, and he got a flat tire. Don’t ask.”

“Trust me, my men earn enough working for Rangeman. You can keep your capture fee. Judging by the state of your refrigerator, you need it.”

“When did you snoop in my fridge?” I accused.

“Last night.”

“You didn’t eat my cake, did you?”

His eyes were laughing at me. Tough to say what he found more amusing, the idea that I’d think he would eat cake, or my abject panic that the cake was gone.

“I ate half your roast beef and some cheese. Your cake is safe. For now.”

Since we both knew Ranger didn’t eat dessert, it was clear that he wasn’t talking about the cake that was in the fridge. He took the envelope from my hand and leaned around me to tuck it back under the magnet.

“Do your men get hazard pay when they’re on Stephanie duty?”

“The incentive has never been necessary. Whenever I add protection shifts for you, my men fight over them.”

“Really?” That was sort of flattering. It was true that my life could be sort of exciting sometimes. Now that I had a little distance from yesterday and the garbage incident, I had to admit that I did sort of enjoy certain aspects of my job. The problem-solving pieces and the thrill of figuring it out. I’d have to keep that in mind for my job hunt.

“There’s usually more action in a day spent with you than they’d typically see in a month of normal patrols,” Ranger said. “And I’m told that you sometimes feed them.”

I winced slightly, knowing that was probably a no-no. The kitchen at Rangeman was always well-stocked, but Ranger ran a tight ship. He outlawed sugar and trans fat. For me on the other hand, those were two of the main food groups.

“It seems only fair,” I told him. “If someone is going to put their life on the line for me, they deserve a bucket of greasy chicken now and then. No one should have to worry about their last meal being lean turkey and carrot sticks. That’s no way to live.”

He looked like he was thinking about smiling again, but instead, he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me against him. He kissed me, and when his tongue touched mine and his hand slid to my ass, I started to think that I wouldn’t mind if my last meal was Ranger.

When he released me, I slumped back against the counter and tried to catch my breath. If I hadn’t just experienced first-hand evidence to the contrary, I would’ve thought that the kiss had had no effect on Ranger. He wasn’t out of breath, and he calmly reached behind me to collect his gun belt.

“I need to head to Rangeman. There’ll be some catching up to do,” he said. “What’s on deck for you today?”

“The usual.” Although I was sort of hoping that didn’t turn out to be true.

He let himself out, and I hopped into the shower. I kept the water on the cooler side, doing my best to calm my overheated body and to banish the lingering thoughts of Ranger. Best not to think about him in my bed, or against my kitchen counter. I needed to halt that train of thought in its tracks, because there be dragons. There was nothing good for me down that path.

The trouble was, I knew just how good Ranger was. At everything. If Morelli was like pot roast, then Ranger was the pineapple upside-down cake with extra whipped cream. Pot roast is warm and hearty and delicious in its own right, but pineapple upside-down cake is downright sinful. It was an indulgence that I allowed myself when it was available, despite the irrefutable evidence that it wasn’t healthy for me.

Forty-five minutes and an extra coat of mascara later, I entered the bonds office. My job wasn’t the kind that required me to report in every day, but it was habit. Plus, there were usually doughnuts.

“What’s new?” I asked.

“Look at you,” Lula said. “You look different. You got a spring in your step.”

“I’ve decided it’s going to be a productive day.”

“It’d better be!” Vinnie yelled. He pushed open the door from his inner office and stood in the doorway, hands on hips. “You’ve got five open cases. What the hell are you doing here? You should be out looking for these low-lifes! I’m not running a damn charity!”

He slammed the door closed again, and I gave Connie raised eyebrows.

“Lucille wants to add an in-ground pool,” Connie answered. “Vinnie got the contractors’ estimates, and it turns out that a twenty-foot pool with waterfall doesn’t come cheap.”

Lucille was Vinnie’s wife, and she was also the daughter of Harry the Hammer. Lucille was used to getting what she wanted. Vinnie did his best to give it to her, and in return, Lucille tended to look the other way when it came to rumors about Vinnie’s romantic relationships with barnyard animals. If Lucille wanted a pool, Vinnie was going to find a way to pay for it, and since Vinnie lost money when people skipped out on their bail bonds, that meant he’d be breathing down my neck to bring these skips back into the system so he could recoup his money.

Vinnie was in luck that his goals were the same as mine. I needed to focus on bringing in these skips. Of course, my motivation was a little different than Vinnie’s - I was more concerned with paying my rent and electric bill. An in-ground pool was so far outside the realm of my reality that I couldn’t even picture it.

“It’s a good thing you lost that glass-half-empty attitude,” Lula said. “Else this would be a bit of a downer. As it is, I’m excited. This is gonna be a real good day for us. Who’ve we got to go after today?”

I hauled a handful of files out of my bag and tossed them onto the coffee table in front of Lula. “Take your pick. We have an armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, attempt to purchase, and a disorderly conduct. Plus Lenny Bennett is still at-large.”

“It’s too early in the day for any of them armed assault people. I don’t like when I get shot at before lunch.” She picked through the files and extracted one. “Disorderly conduct doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe we start with this one.”

“That would be Kate Fitz. She was arrested for pulling the fire alarm at the Cheshire Motel off State Street.”

“They arresting people for that now?” Lula asked.

“They are when there’s not actually a fire.”

“Hunh. I guess she didn’t know that you’re not supposed to stick around after.”


	4. Chapter 3

Kate Fitz lived four blocks over and two blocks down from my parents, in the heart of the Burg. Lula pulled her Firebird to the curb and we both got out to eye Kate’s half of the little duplex. The postage stamp sized front yard was cluttered with a swing, two tricycles, and a small bicycle with training wheels. There was screaming emanating from the house. We could see Kate through the front window, balancing a toddler on her hip while she chased two others around the living room.

“Good news is, she’s home,” Lula said. “And the other good news is that I bet she’d be willing to pay us to take her to jail. Probably it would be a nice vacation for her.”

We trudged our way up the chalk-covered front walk and I knocked on the door. The screaming came to an abrupt stop, and I peered over to see two little noses pressed to the front window. I gave them a finger wave while the front door opened.

Kate Fitz was about about an inch shorter than me and about 15 pounds heavier. She had curly red hair and a cute button nose, and all the concealer in the world would be no match for the dark circles under her eyes. The toddler on her hip had a runny nose.

I introduced myself and gave her my go-to line about needing to reschedule her court date.

“I’m sorry I missed my first one,” she said. “The twins had the flu. When can we reschedule?”

“You’ll have to come with me down to the courthouse. They’ll get you fixed up with a new date.” The part that I failed to mention was that before she got a new date, she’d also be rebooked and would need to post bond again.

“Oh jeez,” she said. “Can you fit three car seats in your car?”

I glanced back at the Firebird. “Not so much.”

“I would offer to drive us, except my minivan is in the shop.”

“Do you have someone who could come watch the kids while we go to the station?”

Kate shook her head. “My parents moved to Boca six weeks ago, and they were our only childcare option. Ever since then, we haven’t been able to find anyone else who’s trustworthy. And believe me, I haven’t been that picky.”

“Not a neighbor? A coworker? A friend?”

“The only neighbor I know is Mrs. Seaver, and she’s 90. I worry that if she had to get down on the floor with the kids, she wouldn’t be able to get back up. I don’t work, and all my friends have babies of their own, so I’d hate to drag them over here.”

“Excuse me for a minute,” I told Kate. I pulled Lula to the side. “You’re going to have to stay here with the kids while I go turn her in.”

“I don’t think so. What if she can’t get rebonded? What then? Remember what happened to you when you promised Morelli’s cousin Loretta that you’d watch her kid while you took her to reschedule? How she couldn’t get rebonded and then you got stuck with that kid for a week? I can’t take that risk. I got a date tonight.”

Kate was looking between Lula and me with wide eyes. “Is that a possibility? That I might get stuck in jail?”

“That hardly ever happens,” I assured her.

“Well this sucks!” Kate cried. The toddler on her hip looked startled at her outburst. She set him down and he scurried back to his siblings. She stood hands on hips and shook her head. “This is all Chris’s fault! I should never have pulled that fire alarm. It was a dumb idea. I just didn’t know how else to flush him out, you know? What else was I supposed to do?”

“Sometimes it seems like you’ve got a real good plan to get something done, and then it’s not until after you’ve just done it that you realize it wasn’t such a good idea,” Lula said.

“Hindsight is 20/20,” I agreed.

“Now that you’ve got hindsight, you’ll know next time not to stick around long enough for the police to show up.”

“I needed to stick around so I could see Chris leaving,” Kate said. “That was the whole point. I followed him to that disgusting place, but I didn’t see which room he went into, and I couldn’t get the guy at the front desk to tell me anything.”

“That’s actually reassuring,” Lula said. “They don’t call them no-tell motels for nothing. I like that the front desk guy was upholding the reputation of his establishment.”

“Who is Chris?” I asked.

“My husband. My lying, cheating, dirtbag husband!”

I glanced nervously over Kate’s shoulder into the house, but the kids were back to screaming. Doubtful they were overhearing anything. The puzzle was coming together, and I was actually feeling pretty sympathetic to Kate’s situation. I’d had my own experience with a lying, cheating, dirtbag husband.

“So you suspected your husband of cheating on you, and you pulled the fire alarm so you could see who came out of the motel with him.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Except that jerkface cop arrested me, and I lost Chris in the crowd by the time I was dragged out to the car!”

Donald Schmidt was the officer listed on Kate’s arrest, and he actually was a jerkface. No use pointing that out, I figured. “Where is your husband now? Do you think he could watch the kids while we run to the station and get you rebonded?”

“He’s at work. He’s always at work!”

“When does he get done working?” I asked. “Maybe we can come back later today when he gets home.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Lately it seems like he’s been getting home later and later. Last night I was already asleep by the time he was home, and then he was gone when I woke up this morning.”

I bit my lip. The courthouse closed at 5:30, and if I couldn’t get Kate there before closing, she’d have to stay overnight before she could get bonded back out. “Do you think you could ask him to try to make it home early tonight?”

Her answer was interrupted by a thundering crash from inside her house. The screaming had cut off abruptly, and we all froze for several long heartbeats until it picked back up again, but louder.

“I’m sorry, I can’t go to reschedule right now.” Kate sounded defeated. “Could you try back later?”

Before I could explain to her that it didn’t really work that way, she’d closed the door in our faces. 

“On the bright side, that wasn’t one of our worst attempts,” Lula said as we buckled ourselves back into the Firebird.

Sadly, she was right. I’d have to decide how to approach the Kate Fitz situation. Truth be told, I wasn’t feeling especially motivated to bring her in. Seemed to me that Kate’s husband was the one who deserved to be dragged into the police station. If only extramarital sex were a criminal offense.

That thought gave me a queasy feeling, though, as I remembered the impure thoughts I’d had about Ranger in the shower that morning. Not to mention the pretty darn impure actions carried out against the kitchen counter. Sure, Morelli and I were ‘off again’, but I had to assume we’d get back together sooner or later. It was coming up on three weeks since our big argument, which meant we were quickly closing in on our quota. Obviously we weren’t married, and technically our commitment to each other was loosey-goosey, but all that knowledge didn’t do anything to settle the guilt swirling around in my stomach. 

“What’s the matter with you? You look like you just ate some bad potato salad.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. Who’s next?”

“You tell me. I’m the wheelman today. That means you gotta do the navigating. Who are we going after next?”

“I have a lead on Lenny Bennett,” I told her. 

Fifteen minutes later, Lula slid to the curb in front of a row house that had seen better days but probably hadn’t yet seen its worst. The neighborhood was home to mostly singles who lived paycheck-to-paycheck and were more concerned with saving up for a new television than they were in improving their bigger-picture circumstances.

“Which one is this? It’s not one of them armed ones, is it?” Lula asked.

“This is Dougie Kruper’s house. I got a tip that Lenny Bennett is working for Dougie now. I’m thinking we might find him here.”

“Where’d you get that tip?”

“From Lenny, last night at dinner.”

“Are you telling me you had dinner with Lenny Bennett last night? And you still didn’t capture him and haul his butt back to jail?”

“It was a set-up by my mother. She doesn’t like it when I slap cuffs on people at the dinner table.”

“You really gotta hurry up and patch things up with Officer Hottie.”

A sigh escaped me before I pushed off of the Firebird and made my way up Dougie’s driveway to the front door. I rang the doorbell and waited a minute, and then knocked. Then rang the doorbell again. I could hear vague noises from inside.

“Are we gonna go around and check the windows?” Lula asked.

Before we could get around to that, Dougie opened the door. He blinked out at me. “Hey, it’s you. You’re not here to arrest me, are you?”

Uh-oh. “That’s not really how my job works. Why do you think you’re going to get arrested?”

He looked relieved. “You just never know. You know?”

“I see what you’re sayin’,” Lula told him. “In my former line of work, that was a real concern of mine, and even though I’ve got a new job on the right side of the law, it’s hard to shake the feeling that you might get arrested anytime you see a cop.”

“I’m not a cop,” I reiterated. “But I’m looking for Lenny Bennett. He told me he was working with you.”

“Yeah, Lenny’s a real marketing whiz. He’s a genius. I got lucky that he was the one who answered my ad.”

“Is he here?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re not sure?” I prompted. 

“You wanna come in and see if you can find him?” Dougie pushed the front door open behind him and stepped aside. 

I stood rooted to the stoop. Behind Dougie, stacks of boxes and bags and clothes and food and who-knows-what-else loomed high overhead. And it was one stack after another. Solid walls of stuff as far as the eye could see. I’d been to Dougie’s house before and hadn’t felt the need to call Hoarders Anonymous. This was new.

“What’s with all the stuff?”

“I had a windfall recently,” Dougie said. “I’ve been bestowed some new inventory.”

I cautiously stepped over the threshold with Lula right behind me. I took a small step to my right to let her pass, pressing myself up against a double stack of pallets filled with video games and consoles. I was getting a sinking feeling about why Dougie thought he was going to be arrested.

Against my better judgement, I asked, “Where did this all come from?”

“I told you, I had a windfall.”

“Do I see some handbags back here?” Lula was edging her way toward the back of the living room, stepping carefully.

“I’ve got all kinds of bags. Big bags, small bags, pocketbooks. Are you in the market?” Dougie asked. “On account of my inventory problem, I’ve got a two for one sale happening.”

“I love a two for one sale,” Lula said.

“I’m sure I could make you an even better deal, too, seeing as you’re a friend of Stephanie’s.”

“Tell me about your inventory problem,” I asked Dougie.

“I wasn’t expecting my windfall, and I already had some inventory on hand. When the windfall came, it was sort of too much, you know? I don’t like to look a gift windfall in the mouth or whatever, but if I’d known it was coming, I’d have cleared out some more space. So I rented out a couple units down at the Store-N-Save, but now time is money, man. I’ve gotta move some inventory. Gotta consolidate.”

“And where does Lenny come in?”

“He’s my marketing man. He’s gonna help me offload some of this inventory ASAP. Mostly I deal with regular customers, but my regulars aren’t gonna be able to consume all of this, so Lenny’s been helping me. We’re doing pop-up shops and flash sales and all sorts of stuff I’d never thought of before. Lenny’s really been taking The Dealer to the next level.”

“When’s your next flash sale?”

“Next Saturday.”

“And Lenny will be there?”

“Yeah, he has to help me with the transactions. It’s too much for The Dealer to do on his own. Lenny’s a lifesaver.”

“Where is it, and what time?”

“It’s at 5:30 at the Store-N-Save. We’re planning on appealing to the after-work crowd. Are you gonna come?”

“Yep,” I said. “We’ll be there.”

Lula left with two new handbags and two packs of hamburger buns. Dougie had thrown the hamburger buns in for free with purchase. Apparently his windfall had included a mix of food and a random assortment of consumer goods. Probably a Walmart out there was missing a delivery.

“I still think you should’ve gotten that handbag and those new jeans,” Lula told me. “Knowing you, you’ll need those jeans before too long. You go through jeans like no one I ever met, always getting holes ripped and whatnot.”

That was unfortunately true. “I’m being careful about my purchases right now.”

“I hear you. I always admired you for that. You’ve always been better than me at self-control with your purchases.”

The thought was a scary one, because I wasn’t especially good at managing my finances. I considered it a win if I could pay my rent on time and still have money leftover for groceries. And as far as the self-control goes, it wasn’t something I considered one of my strong suits. Although I’d managed to resist dragging Ranger back to bed that morning, so maybe I was being too hard on myself.

“Maybe if we make a capture today, you can come back later for the jeans,” Lula said.

“I’ll just have Dougie bring them to the flash sale next weekend,” I said.

“Good thinking. Where we off to next?”

I pulled my skip files out of my bag and thumbed through them while Lula drove us aimlessly around the neighborhood. Aside from Kate Fitz and Lenny Bennett, I had three more FTAs on the loose. Roger Klueger was wanted for armed robbery. He’d held up the driver of an 18-wheeler at gunpoint, and had been in the process of trying to cut open several of the pallets in the back of the truck when police arrived. There was a note in the file that police suspected Roger of having partners, since by the time a second officer arrived after the first had hauled Roger to the station, more than half of the merchandise was missing off the truck.

“Uh-oh. Why are you hitting yourself in the head like that?” Lula asked. 

“It’s nothing,” I told her. That was my story, and I was sticking to it. It wasn’t my business where the merchandise ended up, it was just my business to bring in Klueger. Maybe I’d delay him another couple of days in hopes that Dougie could fence more of his inventory before anyone had a chance to connect the dots.

That left us with Vincent Guzman, who was wanted for assault with a deadly weapon. Or Gabriella Ayala, the new skip Connie gave me yesterday. I hadn’t had a chance to do much phone work on Gabriella yet, but if she was new in town, then probably it wouldn’t get me very far anyway.

I was having a hard time getting excited about either of those. “Is it too early for lunch?”

“It’s never too early,” Lula said. “We can go to Cluck-in-a-Bucket, on account of it’s one of those all-hours establishments. It’s close enough to noon that we could call this lunch, but also they got breakfast biscuits if we feel more like brunch.” 

We made a pitstop, and after the perfect combination of salt and grease and carbohydrates, I was feeling a little more motivated.

Lula was right there with me. “That was an excellent working lunch. I’m all fueled up. Where to next? Let’s track ‘em down. Who are we after?”

“Gabriella Ayala.”

“Let’s go. Where is she?”

“There’s an address listed on Stark Street.”

“Hold up,” Lula said. “Is this the girl who was hanging around Stark and Twelfth, trying to make a deal?”

“That’s her.”

“On second thought, I might not be feeling so good. That lunch may not be sittin’ well with me. I’d better go home and take a nap.”

“You’d make me go visit Stark by myself?”

Lula gave a sigh. “I guess I can’t do that. Besides, from what I know of Stark and Twelfth, our best bet might be to pretend we’re ‘hos to get some information. And no offense, but you don’t know nothing about being a good ‘ho. Even though it’s a pretend ‘ho, you’ve gotta know the part you’re playing.”

“So you’ll help me?”

“Sure. But I’m not taking my baby to Stark Street.” She caressed the dash of the Firebird. “We’ve gotta take your car. Maybe you’ll get real lucky and someone will steal it.”

One could only hope.

###

In the end, we decided to just try being bounty hunters rather than ‘hos. Lula feared that my act wouldn’t be convincing in my jeans and t-shirt and sneakers. I agreed. 

We had our plan, but neither of us were particularly eager to execute it. I’d parked on the 800 block of Stark, which was the last semi-legitimate stretch. As the street numbers got higher, the cumulative IQ of the residents got lower and the neighborhood rapidly degenerated into no-man’s land. The types of businesses that thrived below Eighth were bars, bodegas, laundromats, and pizza joints. The only businesses that thrived starting around the 900 block and above were whorehouses and crack dens. Any of the row houses that weren’t firebombed or otherwise condemned were home to five times the residents they were built for, and it was a crapshoot whether the apartments had furniture or just dirty mattresses on the ground.

We’d parked in front of a bodega with bars on the windows and a heavy fire door that was propped open. “We may as well start here.”

“Right behind you,” Lula assured me.

I left the car unlocked, all the better to encourage someone to take it off my hands. If I could get an insurance payout for the Honda, then I wouldn’t have to worry as much about closing out all of my open files. I’d have some cash to get me through to my first paycheck from my new job. Of course, I wouldn’t have a car. Details.

I introduced myself to the woman behind the counter at the bodega. “We’re looking for someone.”

“Honey, this isn’t that kinda place. You go a few blocks down, and I’m sure someone can show you a good time.”

“Do we look like we’re here for a good time?” Lula asked. “We’re on business. This is a official bounty hunter visit.”

I showed her the only photo we had of Gabriella, which was the mug shot from her arrest. “Have you seen this woman?”

“I don’t see nothin’ or no one. It’s unhealthy to see things in this neighborhood.”

“This woman missed her court date, and I’m trying to help her reschedule,” I tried.

The woman snorted. “I see you’re a real do-gooder.”

“Excuse me, but I don’t like your attitude,” Lula told her. “We’re doing a public service here. We’re cleaning up the streets. Seems you’d have a vested interest in that, seeing as this is your place of business. And the least you could do is help us. Have you seen this woman, or not?”

“Not.”

We stepped back out to the sidewalk and Lula put a hand to her hip. “If that’s the kind of reception we get for trying to do the right thing and bring these butts back to jail, I have half a mind to quit just like you did.”

“Connie will have a coronary event if we both quit at the same time.”

“I suppose that’s true. With you being one foot out the door, I need to be a stabilizing influence for the office.”

“I don’t think the reception is going to get any warmer where we’re heading next.”

As the addresses went up, the age of the residents congregating on the streets went down. A pair of teenagers sitting on a stoop eyed us as we passed. The boy wore lightwash jeans that pooled around his $500 sneakers and was sporting a blue bandana. The girl sitting next to him had her hand near an indecent part of his anatomy, considering it was broad daylight.

“How much if I wanna do the skinny one while the big one watches?”

The girl removed her hand and used it to whack the guy upside the head, and I picked up my pace to hurry to the end of the block.

“Guess I was wrong about you passing for a ‘ho,” Lula said.

Lucky me.

We spotted a couple of guys across the street and up a block, making a deal. I didn’t want to spook anyone and end up with any unnecessary bullet holes, so we hung back for a few while they finished their business before we hustled over. The guy running his business was leaning against the side of a building covered in graffiti. He was also wearing a blue bandana, and I started to get nervous. I glanced over at Lula. Today she was sporting little white spandex shorts and a pink sequined tank top. Probably no local gangs would have claimed pink as their colors. And I was safe because my t-shirt was white. White was neutral, right? They could think of me as Switzerland.

“What can I do for you ladies?” he asked.

“I’ve just gotta say, this here is refreshing,” Lula said. “You’ve got some manners. It’s not always you find that these days. As a mater of fact, we’re here to ask for your help.”

“I’ve got all the help you need. I’ve got the cure to whatever ails you. What do you need, girl?”

“I’m looking for someone,” I told him. “I’m wondering if you’ve seen her.”

“I hear you. Who you looking for? I’m sure I can help. You need Molly? Addies? Barbs? Blanco? Aunt Hazel?”

“This is fascinating. I don’t even recognize half those names,” Lula said. “You get out of the game for a couple years and all the sudden you don’t even know the players anymore.”

“Don’t worry, Sugar, I got you,” the guy said. “You looking to go up or down?”

“We’re not looking to go anywhere. We’re looking for a woman named Gabriella Ayala.” I showed him the mugshot. “Do you know her?”

He glanced down at the mugshot and then stepped back. “Get the fuck out of here with that shit.”

“You’ve seen her?”

“I’ve never seen that woman in my life. Now get out of here.”

“Was she a customer?”

“You’re bad for business. Shoo.”

“Excuse me? ‘Shoo’? Did you just shoo us?” Lula went hands to hips and leaned forward. “I don’t appreciate being shoo’d. Have you got something to tell us about this Gabriella person, or what?”

“I never saw her, for real. And if you know what’s good for you, you didn’t either.” He retreated into the building, and going in there wasn’t high on my priority list, so I let him go.

“Hunh,” Lula said. “I used to like him, but now I get the feeling he’s not real truthful.”

We walked for another block before we came upon another dealer. He watched us approach until we got within ten feet, and then he lifted his shirt with his left hand and put his right on the gun sticking out of his pants. We turned on our heels and skittered away.

I came to a stop in front of a dilapidated row house. The street numbers tacked onto the vinyl siding looked like they read 1098, but the 9 was hanging below all the other numbers, so I was pretty confident that it had started life as a 6 before it lost one if its nails. To be sure, I double-checked the address on the building we’d just passed. We were in the right place.

“What’s the plan?” Lula asked.

“Gabriella lives here, in 3C. I want to try to talk to some of her neighbors.”

The house was three stories, with two units on each floor. No one answered the door at any of the ground floor units. On the second floor, we spoke with a woman who answered the door with a screaming baby on her hip. She said she’d never seen Gabriella, and I was inclined to believe her. She looked so sleep-deprived that I could’ve shown her my own mugshot and she would’ve said she’d never seen me, either. On the third floor, a man confirmed that he’d seen Gabriella around. 

“When’s the last time that you saw her?” I asked.

“Must’ve been about a week ago.”

“Do you know if she has a job? Did you see her coming or going from the apartment at certain times?”

“We never really spoke. I can’t say about the job, except that she always looked fairly put-together, so I assume she had some sort of money coming in. Not like one of those dead-eyed girls looking for a cheap fix, you know?”

Seeing as she was arrested for attempt to purchase, I’d say she must’ve been looking for some kind of fix. “What about her schedule? Did it seem consistent?”

“I really only seen her around a couple times. Mostly I see her roommate.”

I perked up; this was news to me. “What does her roommate look like?”

“Long, dark hair. Nice shape. Pretty. Hispanic.”

He could have been describing Gabriella. “What times do you tend to see her around?”

“I think she usually gets home around 7. I hear the television going most nights from about 7 to 10. The walls are thin.”

I thanked him, and Lula and I made our way back down the stairs and out into the afternoon sun. A black SUV sat at the curb in front of the building, and the window rolled down while we ambled over.

Hal looked out at us. He was one of Ranger’s Merry Men, an employee of Rangeman. “The control room saw that you were sitting around on Stark, and we got a little worried. I was just about to come in and find you. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Did you see if my car was still parked a few blocks back?”

“Yeah, it’s still there. Still got its wheels and everything.”

“Damn.”

Hal chuckled. “You want me to make it disappear? Have an accident?”

The idea was appealing, but in my experience, it would take a couple of weeks to get the insurance check. By that time, it wouldn’t do me any good because I’d already be kicked out of my apartment. I was better off keeping the car, staying mobile, and trying to track down my last few skips. Still, an accident for the Honda was a nice fantasy. I sighed. “Nah. Thanks anyway.”

He gave a small salute, the window rolled up, and Hal was off.

“I’ll come back later to see if I can catch the roommate,” I said to Lula. “For now, I still want to head to Twelfth and ask around.”

“I don’t think no one on Twelfth is going to be feeling very talkative,” Lula said.

“Can’t hurt to try.”

Okay, so that was a big fat fib. It could hurt us to try talking to the crowds that hung out on Twelfth. But as they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Right? It sounded good in theory. Maybe that could be my new motto, to go with my new life.

The colors repped on the streets changed from blue to red when we crossed Eleventh on Stark. Maybe the reds would be more talkative than the blues had been. I sidled up to two guys and a girl who were hanging out on a stoop.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for someone, and I’m wondering if you can help me.”

“Why would I do that?” one of the guys asked.

Good question. I had fifteen dollars on me, and I didn’t think that was going to cut it as an incentive. Besides, I really needed that fifteen dollars. I forged on. “I’m looking for a woman named Gabriella.”

The guy in a red t-shirt cut his eyes to me. “What do you know about Gabriella?”

“She missed her court date, and I need to bring her in and get her rescheduled. I represent her bail bondsman.”

The other guy with gold chains around his neck snorted at me. “Not surprised. That girl is stupid as shit. She was new in town and all, so I figured I’d try to help her, right?”

The girl who was sitting with him sucked in some air. “You knew Gabriella?”

“This was before I met you, baby,” he said.

“Yeah, but…” 

The red t-shirt guy stood, and pulled the girl up by the arm. “I think you’re the one who’s stupid as shit,” he told Chains.

He and the girl hurried across the street and didn’t look back.

“How did you know Gabriella?” I tried again.

“I didn’t, really. Like I said, I tried to help her out. I ain’t been here long, but even I know a cop when I see one. I told her not to try to buy from that dude, but bitch didn’t listen. Look where she is now.”

Gabriella was arrested when she’d tried to make a deal with Trey Barton. I didn’t know Trey well, but Morelli used to work with him when he was with Vice.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

“I ain’t seen her since that night,” the guy said.

I thanked the guy and left him sitting there alone. Lula and I continued down to the end of the block, and then I paused.

“Are there more of these young entrepreneurs we need to talk to, or can we get out of here now?” Lula asked.

“I think I’m done.” I hadn’t learned much of anything, but at least I had the roommate lead.

We headed back to the car, and even though I knew it wasn’t in my best interest, I was still half-hoping it wouldn’t be there when we arrived. Of course I should have known that wasn’t my luck.

The POS Honda had survived, but it had gotten a new paint job. It was covered in graffiti - a bunch of symbols I didn’t know, plus a bunch of words in a language I couldn’t read. I did know the one that was written in bold across the entire driver’s side.

I could practically feel the steam coming out my ears, and I tried to take slow breaths. It was no use. I was hot, and tired, and poor. I was so close to being done with my sucky job and onto my new life - all I had to do was bring in these last few skips and earn myself some financial breathing room. My open cases weren’t criminal masterminds, but I couldn’t even bring them in. I was a failure.

“I hate this! I hate this stupid street! I hate this stupid car! No one will even take this stupid car!” I kicked the wheel as hard as I could, but it was supremely unsatisfying and all I succeeded in doing was hurting my toe. Instead, I backed up a step and lined up a kick to the side mirror. It came clean off. Much better. I stomped on it, and the mirror shattered under the heel of my sneaker.

“Whoa there,” Lula said. “Slow down, Destructo. That’s bad luck. We’d better see if we got any salt packets in the car, so you can throw them over your shoulder.”

“I don’t care!” I cried, still crunching what was left of the mirror beneath my foot. “Look at this. How much worse can my luck get? We’ve spent all day busting our butts and what do we have to show for it? Nothing!”

“Here you go being all glass-half-empty again. I thought you’d turned a corner, but now we’re back where you started. Maybe it’s that bad luck starting already.”

“I want a new job.”

“Yeah, you said that. You wanna go back to pick up an application for Cluck-in-a-Bucket? I bet they’d hire you. You already got some training from last time.”

“No!” I squinched my eyes shut and forced a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. “I’m going to get a quiet desk job somewhere. Something I’m good at. I’ll work 9 to 5, and I’ll be home in time to eat dinner and put the kids to bed, and then I’ll enjoy a glass of wine on my deck.”

Lula went wide-eyed. “Say what? Kids? I never hear you talk about wanting kids.”

Yeah, that part sounded weird. “Okay, so maybe I’ll just get home in time to eat dinner and put Rex to bed. And then the wine on the deck!”

“Do you mean on your little fire escape? The one where you found me after Ramirez beat the you-know-what outta me?”

“No!” Another deep breath. And then another. “I’m going to make enough money at my new job that I’ll move out of my shitty apartment and into a nice house with a backyard and a deck. And there will never be bodies on the fire escape, or blood on the carpet, or bombs thrown in the window. No one will ever break in and I won’t need to worry about waking up with men in my bedroom!”

“Hold up. I hear what you’re saying about the dead bodies and the blood, but are you sure this new life isn’t starting to sound a little on the dull side?”

“Pretty sure.”


	5. Chapter 4

It was dusk by the time I dropped Lula back at her car at the bonds office. I ignored the stares of the few people out on the streets. I was used to it.

“You going to be okay driving around in this modern abstract car?” Lula asked.

“I’m planning on switching it out.”

“You gonna go get Big Blue?”

Big Blue The Buick was technically my grandmother’s car, though she’d had her license revoked. She blamed her disastrous driving on macular degeneration, but personally I think road rage combined with a hunger for drama also played a part. Either way, she didn’t drive the car, so it spent its life in my parents’ garage and had been there for me through several car-related emergencies over the years. Big Blue was reliable, but it was a boat on wheels.

“Nope. Big Blue doesn’t fit with my new life. I’m thinking more along the lines of a sleek, black SUV.”

“See if you can swing a Porsche,” Lula said. 

“We’ll see,” I lied. An SUV suited me just fine. Ranger stocked a fleet of company SUVs for his employees, and the Porsches were his private vehicles. I was planning on sneaking into Rangeman to swap out my car for something that didn’t belong in either an art museum or a junkyard, but I was planning on avoiding Ranger while I did it.

“While you’re at it, you might want to see if Tank or somebody wants to go with you to Gabriella’s apartment tonight, on account of I’ve got a hot date and won’t be able to make it.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“By yourself? Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

It definitely was not, but I was grasping at straws. I really needed this day to not be a complete failure. “Probably I’ll be fine. No one even tried to shoot at us when we were there earlier.”

“I still say you should see if one of the Rangeman guys wants to ride along.”

To be honest, that held a certain amount of appeal. With Tank or one of Ranger’s other Merry Men at my back, I wouldn’t need to be half as worried about getting shot or shanked. But Ranger didn’t fit into my new 3-step plan. In fact, it seemed like avoiding Ranger was the best thing I could do for my new plan. That meant I needed to stop relying on Rangeman as backup. Before long, I’d have a nifty new job where I didn’t even need backup, because I’d be competent all on my own.

I said goodbye to Lula and headed to Rangeman, trying to work out how to accomplish my car swap while avoiding Ranger. I hadn’t quite figured it out by the time I pulled into the underground parking garage, so I was glad to see that Ranger’s Porsche Cayenne was missing from its spot. 

The operation went as smooth as silk. Ramon was in the control room, and he handed over the keys to a fleet vehicle, no questions asked. No one at Rangeman ever questioned me, which had its advantages. I left my POS in the last spot in a row of the parking garage, hoping to make it inconspicuous. 

I parked the SUV directly in front of Gabriella’s building this time, thankful that all of Rangeman’s SUVs were equipped with anti-theft devices. Once that was set, all I had to keep an eye out for were artists looking to give it a new paint job. To Ranger, the cars seemed to be easy come, easy go, but I still felt bad when I was responsible for one of his cars going to the big long-term lot in the sky.

I hustled up to the third floor and knocked on the door of 3C. The guy across the hall was right, I could hear the drone of a TV. 

The door opened a crack with the security chain still in place. The woman looked to be around mid-20s. Her dark hair was up in a bun, and her brown eyes regarded me warily. “Can I help you?”

“My name is Stephanie Plum. I’m looking for Gabriella.”

The woman stood up straighter. “You know Gabby? Is she okay?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that. She didn’t show up for her court date. I work for her bail bondsman, and I’m here to take her down to the courthouse to reschedule.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen her in a week. She hasn’t been home. I’ve been pretty worried.”

“What’s your name?”

“Teresa. Give me one second.” She closed the door. I heard the slide of the chain, and then she opened it again and offered me her hand. “Teresa Guillen.”

“How long have you known Gabriella?”

“Not long. Just since she moved in about three weeks ago. We met when she responded to my ad about the room.”

“She was new in town, right?”

“I think she moved from somewhere in the South, Texas or Georgia or something. She didn’t really talk much about it, though.”

“Did she have a job?”

“No. She didn’t really seem to be looking for one, but she prepaid her rent for a couple months, so I wasn’t too concerned.”

“Do you have any idea where she could be?”

“None. I wish I did. She didn’t seem to know many people around here. She spent most of her time at home. So when she didn’t come back one night, I started to get worried, but I wasn’t sure what to do or who to call.”

“Did she pack a bag? Take anything with her?”

Teresa did a slow blink. “I’m not sure. I didn’t think to look.”

“Do you mind if I come in and take a look around her room?”

Teresa let me in and led me through the neat little living space. Tight galley kitchen with fridge, stove, one cupboard and one square foot of counter space. Living room with secondhand couch, armchair, television, coffee table. The rug made it homey. There were two bedrooms off the living room with a bathroom in between them. 

Teresa pointed me toward the closed door, and I opened it into a ten by ten foot room. There was a tiny window facing the street, and I took a peek out to make sure the CR-V was still in one piece and was only one color. The double bed took up most of the room, and I edged alongside it to look in the closet. A couple dresses, a button-down shirt, and a black leather jacket. That was it. A chest of drawers was crammed between the bottom of the mattress and the wall. I pulled open a couple drawers and found them filled with books. Paperback, hardback, in varying sizes and conditions.

“She loves to read,” Teresa said. “Sometimes she’d sit in the living room with me while I watched TV, but she always had a book in her hand.”

The chest of drawers also had a couple t-shirts and some socks and underwear. No jeans.

“It seems like she packed a bag, but was planning on coming back.”

“That makes me feel a little better,” Teresa said. “I don’t like thinking that she could be lying in a ditch somewhere.”

I didn’t either, but it was a potential occupational hazard of being a crackhead on Stark. “I’m not here to judge, but can you tell me what sorts of drugs Gabriella was into? That might help point me in a direction of where to look.”

Teresa shook her head. “She was sober. She was really proud of herself for it. I was surprised when she got arrested, but she told me afterward that she hadn’t been trying to buy. It was some kind of misunderstanding.”

Yeah, as in she misunderstood the cop for a dealer. “So you never saw her using?”

“Never. She went to meetings. A couple days after she was arrested, she got her 8 month chip.”

“Did she have any family? Anyone she talked about?”

She shook her head again. “I got the sense she didn’t really like talking about herself or her past. She did say that she had come to town to look for someone.”

“Who?”

“She never said.”

“Can you think of anything else she said about this person? Anything might help.”

Teresa gave palms up. “She just mentioned it once. She said she’d come to Trenton to find someone because she had a message for him. I didn’t get the sense that she knew him real well, because it didn’t seem like she knew his phone number.”

Teresa walked me back to the door. I thanked her for her time and gave her a card, asking that she call me if she heard from Gabriella. She promised she would, and I was inclined to believe her.

My phone rang when I was back in the car, and I dug it out of my bag. “Yo.”

“There’s an abomination parked in my garage,” Ranger said.

“I hope it’s okay that I took the CR-V.”

“It’s fine. You obviously can’t be driving around in this Par de Balos-mobile.”

“A what-mobile?”

“Par de Balos. They’re the gang that tagged you. Their sign is double dice, and it’s all over your car. And what did they do to your side mirror?”

“That was me. I kicked it.”

“Babe.” I could almost hear Ranger’s smile over the phone. “You want to be careful. Hanging out with Balos isn’t a good idea.”

“I didn’t invite them to a slumber party,” I said. “I was looking for an FTA who was arrested at the corner of Stark and Twelfth and has an address listed a couple blocks down.”

“That’s not a good place to be. Who’s the FTA? Anyone I would know?”

“Doubtful. Apparently she’s new in town. Her name’s Gabriella Ayala, and from what I can tell so far, she’s not anyone that anyone knows.”

There was a beat of silence. “Where are you now?”

There was a hardness to his voice that wasn’t there before. “Sitting outside the apartment Gabriella had listed. I came back after I switched cars to talk to her roommate.”

“Get out of there,” Ranger commanded. “Go straight home. Now. I’ll meet you there.”

I swallowed past my stomach that was suddenly in my throat. “What is it?”

“Babe, just leave, right now. Please.”

He disconnected, and I stared dumbly at my phone for the span of several heartbeats. Then I put my car in gear and got the heck out of there. I kept an eye out for dealers or tails or monsters, and I ignored the speed limit. Ranger had really freaked me out with the ‘please’. 

When I pulled into my lot fifteen minutes later, I did a quick scan. No familiar Porsches or SUVs. No vehicles with a logo advertising Balos, whatever that was. The sun had set while I was on my way home, pushing dusk into dark. There were no lights on in my second-floor apartment and it looked quiet, which I took as a good sign.

The truth is, if I spent too much time ruminating over whether a crazed killer was waiting for me in my apartment, I’d never be able to go home. I’d learned a long time ago that I couldn’t get hung up on things like that. Luckily it wasn’t something I’d have to worry about anymore once I got my new job and moved in with Morelli. Morelli never had crazed killers waiting in his house, and if that wasn’t a recipe for happily-ever-after, then I didn’t know what was.

I snagged my messenger bag and headed in. I was halfway across the lot when I heard a car vroom up behind me. Black SUV. Ranger was coming in hot.

But then both front doors opened, and my heart sank when two non-Rangeman guys jumped out. One was a skinny white dude with baggy jeans and a wifebeater. He wore a red ballcap backwards and a belt around his waist, which didn’t bode well for me. My experience was that guys couldn’t run so well when their pants were falling around their ankles. This guy had probably had the same experience and wised up, thus the belt. 

The other guy was gargantuan, and they were both stalking toward me. I debated whether I should run for the building or grab my defense spray out of my bag. Unfortunately I was paralyzed with indecision and didn’t have a chance to do either of those things. The gargantuan guy moved surprisingly fast for his size, and he’d managed to get behind me and take hold of both my arms.

“What the heck?” I struggled in gargantuan’s grasp. “Let go of me!”

“Shut up,” he growled.

“Get her over to the shadows,” the skinny guy said. 

I really didn’t want to go into the shadows. I doubled my efforts, twisting and kicking out at gargantuan. My heel connected hard with his kneecap, and he grunted. His grip loosened for long enough that I squirmed away. My only goal was to get far, far away, but I ran straight into the barrel of skinny guy’s gun. My breath caught in my throat and I came up short. 

“Listen, puta,” he said. “You wanna be real nice to me.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me about Gabriella.”

Crap. Then I was in trouble. “I don’t know anything!”

“I know you been looking for her. And you’re not the only one.”

“Well I didn’t find her! No one knew anything about her.”

“We know about Gabriella. And we know that if you keep looking for her, it’s not gonna be real good for your health.”

“No problem,” I said. At that moment I wasn’t all that motivated to continue the search anyway.

Gargantuan started limping his way back to the car and shot me one last glare. “Don’t forget to give her the message.”

“Oh yeah,” skinny guy said. He got real close and stuck his gun in my face. “You wanna tell Bravo One to quit sniffing around, too. And tell him to watch his six.”

I didn’t know who or what a Bravo One was, but I nodded eagerly. Skinny guy had turned his back to head to the car when a new set of headlights lit us up. Both guys were already running back to their vehicle. Another black SUV was cruising into the lot, and I was hoping that the cavalry had just arrived.

“Shit, they gonna follow us,” skinny guy said.

“Just shoot her,” Gargantuan suggested. “Maybe that’ll slow them down.”

I had time to throw my hands out in front of me, hoping that’d ward off a bullet. I heard a loud pop, followed by another, and then several more but I lost track when searing pain sliced through me. I was on my back, staring up at the sky. I dimly registered car doors slamming, tires squealing, and then I couldn’t see the sky anymore because there was Ranger.

“ _Dios_.” He was on a knee beside me. “Steph?”

“I think I’ve been shot,” I told him.

He scooped me up, and then we were running. Ranger’s arms were tight around me, and he’d positioned one of his hands to press against my stomach. 

“Dammit, that really hurts,” I told him.

“That’s a good thing, Babe. Hold on.”

Tank was ashen as we dove into the backseat of the SUV, and his foot was on the gas pedal before Ranger had even pulled the door closed.

“Hospital! Now!” Ranger told him.

“Oh boy. I must really be toast.”

His eyes slid to me. “You’re not toast.”

“I’ve never seen you yell before.”

“I’m not yelling.”

“You just yelled at Tank. Because you think I’m toast.”

“If you want to see yelling, say you’re toast one more time.”

I heard Tank on his cell phone preparing the hospital for our arrival, telling them that we’d be pulling up to the emergency bay in ten minutes.

“Make it five,” Ranger told him.

I heard the screech of tires and multiple horns honking at us as we flew through an intersection. Tank was already playing fast and loose with traffic laws.

The Cayenne hit a pothole, sending a jolt of pain through me, and a small whimper escaped. Ranger’s eyes darkened, which I wouldn’t have thought possible, since they were already dilated black. I saw his Adam’s apple bob, and that’s when I noticed that he was also breathing faster than normal. I knew that it wasn’t from our ten-yard sprint. Ranger could sprint five miles and not break a sweat.

I reached up to touch my fingers to his neck, and felt his pulse racing. It never did that.

“Shit,” I whimpered again. 

I’d been handling the situation pretty well. I hadn’t gotten hysterical when I took the hit. I hadn’t lost my lunch yet at the sight of all my blood pooling up through Ranger’s hands as he pressed against my stomach. I wasn’t feeling all that great ten seconds ago, but I felt myself starting to take a deeper nosedive. Probably it was the adrenaline let-down, but there was also a big part of me that didn’t want to think too much about the gravity of the situation that was causing Ranger to lose his grip. There was another part of me that was lamenting that I hadn’t eaten my leftover pineapple upside-down cake for breakfast while I had the chance.

Ranger was straddling me with one knee on the seat and the other foot on the floorboard. He’d sort of tossed me into the car, and I was sprawled on my back underneath him. Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t have complained about the position. He used one hand to fish a windbreaker out of the cargo area, then pressed it to my stomach and leaned some weight against me and the makeshift compress. Thank god it was dark enough that I didn’t have to look too closely at the blood that coated his hands.

I closed my eyes against the sight of him hovering over me, blocking him out. Denial had come through for me in the past, and though I’d never tried it on a gunshot wound, I didn’t see the harm in trying.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded. 

I tried to comply, but found it was difficult to drag my eyelids open, and I must not have been fast enough for Ranger’s liking.

“Steph!” he barked. “Look at me!”

I managed to get my eyes open, and it took me another beat to get them to focus. Ranger was still leaning over me, and he had one of his hands on my face. My face felt wet and sticky, and I didn’t want to think about why.

I tried to tell him that he was yelling again, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. My tongue felt heavy, and I was tingly all over. Someone had put weights on my eyelids, and I let them droop again. 

I heard Ranger call out to me, but I couldn’t process what he said. I felt as if I were floating. And then I felt nothing.


	6. Chapter 5

It was dark when I opened my eyes, but as I adjusted to the dimness, I could see that I was in a hospital room. There were guardrails on both sides of my bed, and a television mounted to the wall across from me. Morelli was sprawled across a small couch against the wall to my left. His legs hung off the edge by a good six inches, and he had an arm draped over his face. A glow emanated from behind me. I turned my head to see a heart monitor, and I followed the cord to the plastic doohickey clipped to my finger. The monitor showed a steady beat. Hooray.

“I’m not dead?”

Morelli levered himself off the couch and was at my side in an instant. “Hey, Cupcake.”

He had taken my hand, and I gave his a squeeze while I took in the rest of the room. Tank was leaning against the wall near the door, arms crossed over his chest. He gave me a weary smile when my eyes landed on him. 

I’d seen the whole room, but something was missing. “Where’s Ranger?”

“He’s not here,” Morelli told me.

My stomach did a sort of painful drop. I remembered the blood. There was so much of it, but it hadn’t occurred to me that it might not have been all mine. Had Ranger been hit, too? “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Tank said. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward. “He had to take a meeting.”

Huh. A meeting. Okay. I brought my hands to my stomach and felt the bulk of bandages under the parchment paper sheets and scratchy hospital gown. I had two IVs stuck in me, and I assumed that one of them was dosing me with the good stuff, because I was feeling very little pain and was having a hard time concentrating.

“What happened?” I asked.

Morelli’s brow furrowed. “You don’t remember?”

If only. “I remember getting shot. I don’t remember arriving at the hospital or anything after that. What happened to me? Am I okay?”

He reached out to tuck a curl behind my ear. “You’re going to be just fine. You lost some blood and were a little shocky, but the bullet missed anything critical. The doctors decided you didn’t even need surgery.”

“I seem to have a vague recollection of a bunch of doctors debating about that. Did I dream it?”

“You were in and out of consciousness,” Tank told me. “The ER docs stopped the bleeding and got you stabilized. Then they took you for a CT and determined that the bullet missed all internal organs. There was some discussion around a laparoscopy to make sure the bleeding was under control, but the latest research shows that the risks of surgery can outweigh the benefits in cases like yours. You’ve been admitted and will be observed for any adverse reactions, but they’re pretty confident you’ll be able to go home in a couple of days.”

“Days?”

Tank cut his eyes to Morelli. “I’m going to step out. Need to make a phone call.”

“Thanks for leaving me to deal with that revelation,” Morelli mumbled.

I watched Tank leave. “Is he right? Am I going to be stuck here for days?”

“You were unbelievably lucky. I swear, you have nine lives.”

Scary thought, because if that was true, surely I was reaching the end of my allotment. “What time is it? What day is it?”

“It’s still Saturday night.” Morelli looked at his watch and corrected himself. “Sort of. It’s past midnight, so technically it’s Sunday.” 

“How long have you been here?”

“Tank called me when you were en route, and I arrived while you were getting your CT scan. You’ve been out for a few hours, but the doctors said that’s mostly because of the pain meds.”

I realized that I knew alarmingly little about gunshot wounds to the abdomen. “What happens from here? I assume I get to keep all my limbs. Can I move around? Can I eat solid food?”

He reached up to touch my hair again, and his hand lingered. “You can move around very carefully. We’re supposed to call a nurse when you need to go to the bathroom, so she can help you. And as far as I know, you can eat whatever you want. Are you hungry?”

“No.” My stomach was actually feeling sort of rocky. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“You’ve got a few stitches in your belly, and they’re the kind that dissolve on their own. You’re not supposed to get them wet, and the nurses said you’re also supposed to get their help when it’s time to take a shower.”

I let my eyes drift closed. “Great.”

Morelli brushed his lips against my forehead. “You should get some more rest.”

“Wait.” My eyes popped open. “What about skinny guy and gargantuan? The guys who shot me?”

“We’ve got nothing.” Morelli blew out a breath. “Donnie Piemonte drew the case. Tank and Ranger both gave their statements, and you’ll need to give one too. Donnie will maybe try to set you up with a sketch artist.”

“They were asking about one of my FTAs. Gabriella Ayala.”

“Ranger told us as much.”

“What else did Ranger tell you?”

“That was about it.”

I remembered the strange phone call I’d had with Ranger. He’d reacted to Gabriella’s name. He knew something, but he wasn’t sharing it with the police. Ranger wasn’t a sharing-and-caring type of guy, but in this case, if there were things that he was keeping to himself, he would have a good reason.

Morelli’s gaze had turned assessing. “What were they asking about her?”

“They asked me where she was, and I honestly have no clue. I couldn’t tell them anything. They said they were looking for her, and they wanted me to stop looking. Or else.”

“Piemonte will be talking to Gabriella’s arresting officer, to see what he might know.”

Morelli kept his eyes on me. He was a good cop. He suspected there was more. I’d decided not to say anything about the weird message that skinny guy had given me. I would tell Ranger and let him decide what to do with it. I had no idea what the message meant, but I didn’t want to screw anything up for Ranger if it was part of what he was playing close to the vest. 

Our staring contest was interrupted when a nurse bustled in to check on me. She took my vitals, asked me a few questions, and handed Morelli a little paper cup with a pill before she left.

“What’s that?” I asked him. “I’m the one lying in a hospital bed. Why are you getting medication?”

He grimaced. “It’s for my blood pressure.”

“What’s wrong with your blood pressure?”

“It’s too high, apparently. I started having some chest pains when I first saw you, after you came out of your CT scan.”

I gaped at him. “I gave you chest pains?”

“They gave me an injection at first, and now they have me on these pills. I’m supposed to keep taking them until I come back in a month for a follow-up appointment.”

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Get some rest,” he told me.

###

The next time I awoke, it was morning. I looked over to see Vicky Placzek fussing with the bags attached to my IVs. Seeing her was almost like rubbing salt in my wound.

Vicky Placzek was friends with my sister Valerie in high school. Just like Valerie, Vicky was perfect. Perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect Prom Queen. Vicky had been voted Most Likely to Succeed in her graduating class. I hadn’t been voted Most Likely anything. 

I might have sighed a little. Vicky startled and looked down at me. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“It wasn’t you. What time is it?”

“Almost nine.” Vicky must have caught my glance at the empty couch across the room. “Joe just stepped out when I came in for morning rounds. I think he went to get some breakfast. He should be back soon.”

“Thanks.”

She lowered her voice. “Who is that big guy outside your room?”

“Hard to say.” I wasn’t sure if Tank would have been relieved by another Rangeman employee by now. ‘Big guy’ could cover about half of the Rangeman roster.

“Look at you. Lying here with a gunshot wound, with some guy who looks like he could be a body double for The Rock standing guard outside your door. I can’t imagine what having your life must be like.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“It must be so exciting.”

I blinked up at her, surprised. Not sure how to respond to that one. “I mean… if you think rolling around in garbage, or getting shot at, or being stalked by crazy killers, or getting your car bombed, or having people breaking into your apartment at all hours of the day or night is exciting, then… sure. I guess.”

“It sounds at least a little exciting. Maybe not the getting shot at part. Or the garbage. And as long as no one gets hurt in the car bombings.”

“There’s about to be an opening at the bonds office, if you’re interested in trying my life on for size.”

“Your cousin owns the place, right? Is he expanding?”

“Nope. I’m quitting.”

Her eyes went a little wide. “Why would you do that?”

“Look at me!” I flapped my arms out and let them fall back down. “I’m sick of this. I’m sick of being a failure. I’m sick of having to hear about how everyone around town is talking about my latest catastrophe.”

“Mostly what I hear around town is that you’re a little scary, but in a good way. Like that time you burnt down the funeral home to save your grandma.”

Huh. Usually when people talk about the funeral home incident, they conveniently forget about the more heroic aspects of the situation. “You must not be running in the same gossip circles as my… Ohmigod.”

My heart sort of tripped up in my chest. Somebody would have undoubtedly called my mother by now. Probably more like a dozen somebodies. She would have gotten a thorough play-by-play of the whole dramatic circumstance surrounding my arrival at the hospital, my admittance, my…

I heard a kerfuffle from the hallway just seconds before the door opened and my Grandma Mazur rushed in. Grandma had her hair done up in curls and was wearing a lavender velour track suit and a fresh coat of mauve lipstick. My mother followed closely on Grandma’s heels. None of this was surprising, but I was about bowled over when my father strolled in behind them.

“Wowee, look at you,” Grandma said. She stopped about two feet from the bed and gaped at me. “You really did get shot.”

“Ohmigod.” My mother reached out to place a hand on the foot of my bed, steadying herself.

“I’m fine,” I told them. “I didn’t even need surgery. I’m totally okay.”

“You’re lying in a hospital bed!” my mother exclaimed. “Of course you’re not okay!”

“It’s just precautionary. I get to go home soon, and I’ll be as good as new.”

My mother looked to Vicky, who was looking rather official in her scrubs and with her stethoscope and all. “Is that true?”

“I mean…” Vicky hesitated, but I shot her my Burg death glare. Vicky grew up in the Burg just like me, and as far as I knew she didn’t have any mob ties or Italian heritage or other protections against the glare. She paled a little and turned back to my mother with a meek smile. “That’s right.”

Vicky left not long after that, mumbling an excuse and edging her way past my family and out of the room.

“Where’d he shoot you?” Grandma’s eyes were wide and alight with curiosity. 

“Honestly!” my mother chided. “You’d think Stephanie was a roadside attraction, with the way you’re treating her. Your granddaughter got shot. I bet Lauren Lovick’s mother never has to take a call in the middle of the night from some mysterious monochromatic man, telling her that her daughter’s been shot!”

“We already knew that she was okay, and now we just heard it straight from the horse’s mouth. Now I’m ready to hear how it happened. Stephan McCarty is gonna be laid out at Stiva’s tonight, and I got the juiciest story in the neighborhood. People are gonna want to hear how it went down.”

“I don’t want to hear this! And she doesn’t want to relive it, either. It was traumatic, and it’s best to focus on the positive now. She’s healing and is going to be okay. She’ll come stay in her old room for a few weeks and we’ll take care of her while she’s on the mend.”

I was frozen. I didn’t hear any crazy beeping, so apparently the heart monitor wasn’t picking up my distress. The idea of staying at my parents’ house for any length of time was not an appealing one.

My savior came from an unexpected place. My father stepped up to lay a hand on my mother’s shoulder. “Why don’t we let Stephanie decide for herself whether she wants to tell us what happened, and what kind of help she could use from us.”

My mother and grandmother both swung their expectant gazes back to me, but my eyes were still stuck on my father’s. I telegraphed him a silent thank you.

“It’s all sort of fuzzy,” I told them. I’d decided to go light on the details, trying to strike a balance between appeasing Grandma without permanently scarring my mother. “I was asking around in a neighborhood about an FTA, and these two guys followed me back to my apartment. They didn’t mean to shoot me, exactly. It was sort of an accident.”

“Huh. I thought for sure you would’ve been shot in the process of hauling some delinquent guy’s butt to jail.”

I supposed I could take that as a weird sort of vote of confidence. “Not this time.”

“Honestly,” my mother said again, sounding more resigned than indignant this time. She sank into a chair across from my bed. “What kind of life is this? It’s no wonder Joseph started seeing Lauren Lovick. What kind of man could handle this life?”

I swallowed past a hard, painful lump in my throat. She was right. As things stood, I was not great wife material. I’d just learned that I was basically slowly killing Morelli. And he was a cop! If he couldn’t handle me, then no one could.

“You should find a new job,” my mother continued. “I hear they’re hiring at the personal products plant again.”

“I’ll fill out an application as soon as I’m out of here.”

“I don’t see why you insist on keeping this…” my mother went on. Then her brain caught up. “Oh. Really? Good. That’s great. I could even swing by and pick one up for you, if you’d like.”

Grandma perched herself on the edge of my bed near my feet. “You’re not quitting again, are you? That might put a real crimp in my social standing, if we don’t got any more stories of you kicking butt out on the streets. Although I guess it didn’t turn out so bad last time you quit, what with all the different explosions at your new jobs.”

“There won’t be any explosions this time,” I said. I wished that I felt as confident as I sounded.

My family left once I’d successfully reassured my mother that I wasn’t dying and emphasized to Grandma that she was not allowed to embellish the story of my shooting for dramatic effect. Morelli reappeared not long after, and I suspected that his absence during their visit had not been coincidental. 

I managed to get up and out of bed a few times, and by the end of the day I’d given the hospital staff enough confidence in me that I was now allowed to use the restroom by myself. Yay. Morelli hung out with me all day and through dinner, but then his cell phone buzzed and he had to take off. Murder never takes a night off in Trenton. 

The next twenty-four hours in the hospital were a brain-numbing montage of flipping through channels on the television, scrolling through my phone, deeply introspective questioning of my life decisions, and sleeping. Connie and Lula came to visit, but Lula couldn’t stay long on account of the hospital cooties. I was grateful that she’d braved the hospital to check up on me. 

By Monday night, I was crawling out of my skin. I did my routine of channel-flipping and phone-scrolling for the three hundredth time that day, and then figured I may as well just go to sleep. I made a wish that I would magically sleep through the next twenty-four hours and that by the time I woke up, I could go home. The bed was hard, the pillows were flat, and the sheets were scratchy. It took me about an hour and a half, but finally I managed to drift into unconsciousness. 

When I awoke in the darkened room, my first thought was one of annoyance. I couldn’t stay asleep in this damn bed. But then I saw Ranger sitting in the chair next to me, and my second thought was also one of annoyance.

“I’m trying hard not to be a total girl about this, but where have you been?”

“I had to take a meeting,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s what Tank said. A meeting. For two days.”

He was quiet. Nothing to say to that. My patience was wearing thin.

“I got shot!”

“I know. I was there. I won’t be forgetting it anytime soon.”

“Where were you?” I asked again.

“Not where I wanted to be.”

“I have questions.”

A breath escaped him, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a sigh. “I have questions, too. And not nearly as many answers as I’d like.”

“Who is Gabriella Ayala?”

He was silent for the space of several heartbeats, during which time I debated punching him in the nose. But probably I’d rip a stitch or something if I lunged at him. Luckily for both of us, he started talking.

“She’s the ex-girlfriend of a very powerful drug lord.”

“If she’s connected like that, then why was she arrested for trying to buy drugs from a cop?” I asked. “I wouldn’t think she’d be needing to look for a new dealer.”

“That’s one question,” Ranger agreed. “But it’s not even close to the top of my list. I have no idea why she’s shown up here in Trenton, but no matter what way I try to spin it, it’s not good news.”

“No kidding. It seems there are a few people looking for her.”

“Way more than a few.”

“I think that includes the cops, now, too,” I said. “I still need to give them my statement.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could stick with what you know from your FTA file for now.”

“Why aren’t we sharing the drug lord connection?” 

“There are too many missing pieces of the puzzle. I need to put a few more of them together before I’ll have a grasp on the bigger picture.”

This whole conversation was one big puzzle, and I had a feeling that Ranger had more pieces than he was letting on. But hey, what else was new? Ranger had two lives - or possibly more - but I was only involved in one of them. He didn’t go out of town or ‘in the wind’ as often as he once had, but it still wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Although I was deeply curious, I’d learned that asking questions didn’t get me far, and I had long since stopped trying. Ranger felt that I knew all I needed to know - that his life doesn’t lend itself to relationships - and I was no longer sure how much I even wanted to know about his other personas.

He leaned forward in his chair and propped his arms on my bed. He looked weary, and my annoyance was slipping through my fingers. “You look like you’ve been sleeping about as well as I have.”

“Probably true. I need to get home for a couple hours of shut-eye before I head back out, but I wanted to see you first. How are you holding up?”

“I’m alright. The nurses like my mobility, and Vicky Placzek said she’d put in a good word with the doctors. If all goes well, I might be able to get out of here tomorrow.”

“Are you planning on staying with Morelli? Or your parents?”

“I really just want to go home. I want my own bed, and my own couch, and I need to get back to Rex.”

“Rex is at Rangeman,” he told me.

“What’s he doing there?”

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d be admitted. I had Binkie pick him up yesterday morning. He’s been with Ella.”

Lucky Rex. Staying at Rangeman was sort of like staying at an all-inclusive resort. Probably Ella was feeding him organic veggies and fine cheeses. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Pretty sure. I have a souvenir of the experience. They tell me I get to keep the bullet in my belly.”

“Yeah. I’ve got a few souvenirs like that, too.”

“Can I ask you something?”

He held my gaze for a few beats. “You can always ask. I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Do you set off metal detectors?”

That earned me a real smile, though it was a few watts short of his usual. “Hardly ever. The threshold is usually set too high to be bothered by a few measly bullet fragments. You’ve only got one, so you won’t have to worry about it.”

“How many do you have?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re _not sure_ how many bullets are in your body?”

“I haven’t bothered to keep track. The important part is what happens after the bullet.”

“And what’s that?”

“You learn from it. You do better next time.”

“It was a potshot!”

“There was some lead-up,” he said. “What did you do to defend yourself when they grabbed you? Did you even have your gun on you? Or did you make it easy for them?”

My breath caught at his tone. I’d heard Ranger chastise his men before, but I wasn’t used to being on the receiving end. He was right, of course, and that made it even worse. How stupid could I be? I blinked against the prickling sensation behind my eyeballs.

“Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face, and then took my hand in his. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t your fault. This is about my issues. It hasn’t been a great 48 hours.”

“Those guys followed me from Stark. I was there asking questions, and I knew the kind of crowd I was dealing with. You’re right, I should have had my gun.”

He didn’t bother contesting that. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I still have questions. About the guys who shot me, and about Gabriella Ayala.”

“I know. I’m working on getting more answers.”

“And you’ll share, once you get them?”

“I’ll share as much as I can.” 

That wasn’t exactly what I’d been hoping to hear, but it was probably the best deal I was going to get. Ranger leaned in to kiss me on the forehead, and then he was gone. 


	7. Chapter 6

  
The next morning, Vicky was accompanied during her check-up by Dr. Westcott, who looked me over and ran me through my paces. She had me stand up from the bed and walk around. Sit down in a chair and get back up. She asked me about my recent bathroom activities, and verified that everything was okay on the eating-solid-food front. She asked me about my pain on a scale of one to ten, and was pleased with my three.

“I’m ready to go home, right?” I tried to keep my desperation under wraps, thinking the mature route would serve me better under Dr. Westcott’s scrutiny. 

“You’ll need to continue to take it easy for a few more days, but yes, I think you are. I’ll put in orders to start your discharge.”

“How long will that take?”

She gave me a gentle smile. “I know you’re anxious. It can sometimes take a few hours, depending on what else is going on on the floor. But I promise, you’ll be out of here before the end of the day.”

I eased back into the bed, sitting with my back against the pillows. Patience is a virtue, I reminded myself. I’d never exactly been the most virtuous person, but there was no time like the present to start practicing. What else did I have to do?

I wondered what exactly ‘taking it easy’ would entail. Probably tackling FTAs to the ground was out the window, but maybe I could still go after some of the more mellow skips. I’d only get about $150 for bringing in Kate Fitz, but it was a place to start and was better than nothing. I didn’t even want to think about the hospital bills that I was racking up. I heard the ka-ching of charges piling on every time a nurse did so much as change my bandage.

Breakfast time came and went. I called my mother to let her know I was being released today, and reassured her once again that I’d be fine staying in my own apartment. Yes, I would be sure to call if I needed anything. No, I definitely didn’t need her to sleep on my couch for the first night. Sure, I’d call again if I needed a ride home.

That was something I hadn’t thought about yet. Was I allowed to drive? Even if I was, I assumed that my car was still parked in Rangeman’s garage, and who knew whether the CR-V was waiting for me in my lot. I called Lula to ask for a ride, but then Morelli showed up. When I told him I was being released, he insisted on driving me home, so I called Lula back with the change of plans.

“How’s the blood pressure?” I asked him.

“It’s doing a little better now that you’re out of the hospital gown.”

“Tell me about it.” I’d managed to take a very careful shower and shimmy into a pair of black Pilates pants and a black V-neck t-shirt. I was practically a new woman.

“I suppose I don’t need to ask where the clothes came from.”

“There was a duffel bag in that chair when I woke up this morning. I assumed it was the clothes fairy.” Surprisingly, there was no Rangeman logo on any of the articles of clothing. That must mean that someone had actually gone shopping, instead of just raiding Ranger’s closet.

“Who’s the guy on guard duty?” Morelli asked.

“I didn’t know anyone was still out there.”

“It’s a skinny blond guy with a neck tattoo.”

I shrugged. “Don’t think I know him.”

“Do we have any reason to think that the guys who shot you are going to come back to finish the job?”

“I doubt it. It didn’t seem like killing me was high on their agenda. They just wanted me to stop looking for my FTA.”

“And you’re going to listen to them.” Morelli fixed me with his cop stare. “Right?”

“Right. I’m out. She was a low bond anyway. She’s not worth the trouble.” I shoved down my niggling guilt, because even though skinny guy and gargantuan hadn’t exactly meant to shoot me, I wasn’t sure that they didn’t intend that fate for Gabriella.

“The guys with the guns seemed to have a differing opinion.”

I did palms up. For Gabriella’s sake, I sort of hoped that Ranger was working out some kind of plan to deal with the people who were after her. In the meantime, I’d focus on rounding up the rest of my FTAs while I made some necessary adjustments to my 3-step plan.

It was almost 2:30 in the afternoon by the time Vicky made her way back around to my room. She went over a litany of discharge instructions. I was not to lift anything heavier than ten pounds for at least a week. I was to call the doctor if my pain level increased, because all it should be doing from here on out was decreasing. That was good to hear. I also wasn’t supposed to do any running or other form of intense physical exertion for the next week - no worries there.

“A lot of people tend to have questions about what that means as far as sex.” Vicky’s face turned pink and she was giving Morelli some intense side-eye. “So I’ve just started letting people know that it’s perfectly okay, as long as you’re not doing anything crazy.”

“Good to know,” Morelli said.

“Thanks, but that really isn’t my top concern,” I told her. 

“If you say so.” Vicky clearly thought it should be higher up on my priority list.

I steered things back in a more practical direction before Vicky’s blush caught her hair on fire. “Am I allowed to drive?”

“That’s no problem, as long as your medication isn’t making you feel drowsy.” She consulted her notes. “It looks like they’ve dialed you back to basically extra-strength ibuprofen, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

Vicky loaded me up in a wheelchair, which I protested, but she insisted that it was hospital policy. Morelli went ahead to bring the car around to the curb, and I caught Vicky checking out his backside. Couldn’t really blame her there - it was a nice view.

The blond guy with the neck tattoo had introduced himself as Arturo, and he hovered behind us. 

“Do you need a ride or anything?” I asked him. 

“No, ma’am. There’s a patrol car around the corner. We’re going to follow you back to your apartment.”

Great.

Morelli pulled his SUV to the curb and hopped out to help me into the passenger seat. We swung out onto Hamilton and Morelli pointed us toward home. His eyes cut to his rearview mirror. “We’ve got a tail.”

“Rangeman is feeling a little over-protective.”

“Rangeman, or Ranger?”

I shrugged.

Morelli sighed. “I suppose I can’t blame him. If I was the one who saw you get shot, I don’t know how I’d ever let you out of my sight again. I wasn’t even there, and I’m still having trouble with it.”

It didn’t seem like Ranger was having that problem, and Morelli was going to have to get over it. 

The black SUV slid to a stop in front of the door to my building while Morelli and I parked, and when we approached the door, Arturo hopped out. “I’m going to clear the apartment, if you don’t mind.”

Since it wasn’t likely to make a difference even if I did mind, the three of us rode the elevator together to the second floor. The two men waited while I unlocked the door, and then Arturo asked us to stay put while he ran through the apartment. Once he’d finished and didn’t find any boogeymen, he left us with a nod. 

Silly as it may sound, I felt a rush of gratitude when I stepped over the threshold and looked around my apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was home. There had been a few minutes there after I’d been shot, when we were on our way to the hospital, that I sincerely thought maybe that was it. Maybe I really was toast. It had put some things in perspective for me, and I’d had plenty of free time over the past couple days to mull things over.

First things first, there was some pressing business to attend do. I went straight to the fridge and pulled out the leftover cake from my mother, grabbed two forks from the silverware drawer, and brought the cake to the couch. Morelli settled in next to me, and we dug in.

“I never would’ve forgiven those guys who shot me if I’d had to die with leftover pineapple upside-down cake in my fridge.”

“That’s what you never would have forgiven them for?”

“From now on, I’m eating dessert first if I want. The main course can wait.”

“I don’t see any problem with that.”

I smiled at him over the cake. That was part of the reason I loved Morelli. He knew the importance of dessert. “When do you have to be back at work?”

“I just started a night-shift rotation,” he said. “I’ll need to leave here by about five to go home and feed Bob before I head back to the station.”

My heart clenched a bit at the thought of Bob. I missed him. But I was determined to soak up my next few hours with Morelli. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Morelli took the empty cake plate and our forks back into the kitchen, and then we flipped through the television apps looking for a movie we could agree on. I cuddled into Morelli’s side and he moved his arm from the back of the couch to my shoulders, tucking me into him. He was a great cuddler. That was another part of the reason I loved him.

By the time the end credits rolled, I was having a hard time with my emotions. I sniffled, and Morelli looked down at me and tilted my chin up with his fingertips. “Hey, Cupcake, what’s wrong?”

His eyes were full of concern, because the movie we’d just watched was an action adventure and shouldn’t be producing this kind of response. A tear trickled out of my eye, and I swiped it away.

“Are you in pain? Do you need another pill?” He started to get up, but I held his arm.

“No, I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay. What’s up?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Get shot? I couldn’t agree more.”

“No. I mean, I don’t want to do that anymore either, but that’s not what I’m taking about. I’m talking about this.” I gestured between us. “Us.”

His eyes softened. “That’s all water under the bridge now. I don’t even remember what we were arguing about. When I got that call from Tank, I think my heart stopped.”

“Exactly.” Another tear escaped. “You don’t want to keep getting calls like that.”

“Hell no, I don’t.”

“You want to go home at the end of the day to a wife who’s waiting for you in your nice, cozy house with a cheery mailbox and 2.5 kids.”

Morelli was looking confused. “I don’t particularly care about the disposition of my mailbox, and I don’t think I want to know what a half of a kid is.”

“But you want that picture. You want a wife and kids waiting for you to get home in time for dinner every night. And you don’t want to have to worry about that wife getting shot at or her car blowing up or psychos tailing her home.”

“Well… yeah,” he said softly. 

I blinked and the tears overflowed. “That’s not my life.”

That got me a wry smile while he wiped away a tear with his thumb. “Trust me, I’ve noticed.”

“No, you don’t get it. That’s not my picture. I can’t see it. Maybe one day I will, but right now… I can’t.”

He stared at me while he processed what I was saying, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then sat back. “Okay. So you don’t see it right now. But you said it yourself, maybe someday -”

I reached out and put my hand on his arm. “It’s not just that I can’t see it for me - it’s that I don’t want to. Right now I don’t really know what my ‘Someday’ looks like, but I know that’s not it.”

He was quiet again for a long moment, and his gaze was on the blank television. I took the opportunity to rub my fingers under my eyes. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and took a slow, calming breath.

“Is this about Lauren?” he asked finally.

The sting of jealousy joined the rest of the painful emotions clashing in my belly. But I shook my head. “It’s about us. Just me and you.”

“You can’t tell me that you want the car bombings and the psychos in your picture. You hate the car bombings.”

“Of course I don’t want them in my picture,” I said. “And who knows, maybe one day I really will find a new job, or maybe I’ll just get better at the one I have. What I do know is that I’ve tried time and time again to force myself into that other picture, and I just can’t do it. And it’s only recently that I’ve realized it’s because I don’t want to.”

He ran his hands through his hair and then over his face. “Why the hell not?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about Gabriella Ayala.”

“What?”

I held my palms up, helpless. “I don’t think I fully understand it, either. But sometimes when I learn about these problems, like why Gabriella is missing, and worrying about what will happen to her if the bad guys find her before I do… I just have to do something. I have to try to solve the problem.”

“That’s supposed to be my job,” he said. “Why can’t you just leave it to the police like normal people do?”

“I just can’t. I can’t get the Gabriellas out of my head. I have to try to help, to do something.”

He stood up and paced to the dining table, where he braced his arms and stood with his head hanging between his shoulders. When he turned back to me, he kept his gaze on the floor in front of him. “My god. You’re my Ranger.”

I stared at him in a stupor for a moment, then blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve always been it for me, from the day you followed me into my garage when I was eight years old. I’ve been following you around ever since, waiting years for us to end up on the same page at the same time.”

“Jeez.” I was unsure how to respond to that.

“Yeah.” He shook his head, and then raised it up to meet my gaze. “Are you sure this has to be it?”

“I don’t want to be the reason you have to take blood pressure medication.” 

He walked back over to the couch, but didn’t sit down. “I’d take a pill every morning for the rest of my life, if it meant I were waking up each day next to you.”

I choked on a half sob, half hiccup, and wiped at my eyes again.

“But that’s not your picture,” he said softly.

“It’s not,” I agreed, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

###

Two and a half hours after Morelli left, I was still in my thinking position - spreadeagle on my bed. I’d just blown my F.M.L. plan to smithereens, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men weren’t going to be able to put it back together again.

I had no money. No boyfriend, ‘off again’ or otherwise. No new job. No plan or direction for my life. I was feeling pretty banged up, and it had nothing to do with my gunshot wound. I also couldn’t shake the guilty feelings I was having about Gabriella - I felt like I should be doing more to find her before skinny guy and gargantuan did. The pillow over my head was doing an okay job at blocking out the world, until I heard a knock at the door. 

Who could be knocking at my door after 8pm? I ran through the possibilities, and none of them were appealing. It could be my mother coming to camp out on my couch, determined to nurse me back to health. It could be Donnie Piemonte coming to ask for my statement about the shooting. I supposed it could also be Morelli. Hard to say which option was less attractive.

Whoever it was, it didn’t seem like they planned on giving up anytime soon, so I carefully rolled myself off the bed and shuffled to the door. The view from the peephole surprised me, and I opened the door to Ranger.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “And why are you knocking?”

“I always knock.”

He said it with a straight face, and it took me a minute to catch up. “Morelli’s not here.”

Ranger’s gaze darted around the apartment and then settled back on me. “Gone to pick up Pino’s?”

“Nope. Just gone.”

He absorbed that for a minute. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” I admitted. “What about you?”

“About the same.”

“Are you ready to share some of those answers you were hunting?”

“Yeah. I need to make a phone call first, though.”

He stepped back out into the hall, and my curiosity had me alternately peering at him from the peephole and plastering my ear against the door. His back was to the me, and he had one hand on his hip while he spoke tersely into the phone. I couldn’t make out anything he was saying, so eventually I gave up and retreated into the kitchen to scrounge for something to make me feel better. But I had no more cake, no candy, no booze. The best I could do was a Pop-Tart, and I had to carefully weigh the decision to eat it now or save it for breakfast, since it was the last one. 

Ranger found me sitting cross-legged on the couch with my Pop-Tart, and he sat down next to me and placed a hand on my knee. “Everything okay?” I asked.

“That’s a broad question.”

“Your phone call sounded tense.”

“I was firing Arturo.”

“Blondie with the skull tattoo? Why?”

“He wasn’t supposed to leave you alone unless you were under Morelli’s care.”

My eyes went wide. “Excuse me? Under his care? I’m a grown adult, thank you very much, and I can take care of myself.”

“Babe.” Ranger’s fingers tightened over my knee. “It’s been less than 72 hours since I watched you get shot and crumple onto the pavement. I appreciate that you are your own person, but you’ll forgive me if I need some extra assurances when it comes to your safety right now.”

“Besides, Morelli was here. It’s not Arturo’s fault that he left, it’s mine. You didn’t have to fire him.”

“He would’ve gotten an alert texted to him when Morelli’s car was on the move.”

“You’re tracking Morelli’s car?” 

Ranger just looked at me, and then his gaze moved to my Pop-Tart. “Let me guess. You already finished the cake.”

I held out the last quarter of the pastry to him. “Want some?”

His eyes were laughing at me again. “I haven’t eaten since 6am, and the answer is still no.” 

I popped the rest of the pastry in my mouth, wiped my hands on my pants, and gently levered myself off the couch to head toward the kitchen. Ranger followed and watched while I pulled out bread, meat, and cheese and started assembling him a sandwich. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“That’s a broad question,” I shot back.

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Touche.”

“Tell me what you know about Gabriella.”

“First things first,” he said. “Where’s your bag?”

I pointed to where it hung over a chair, and Ranger picked it up and dumped out the contents across the dining table. He systematically combed through everything, placing each item back in the bag as he went. When he was left with a handful of items in front of him, he waved me over. 

“Does any of this not look familiar?” he asked.

I picked up my favorite tube of lip gloss, a pair of cheap sunglasses I’d picked up a few weeks ago, and a pen I’d pilfered from Pino’s because it wrote so smooth. “These are all mine.”

“This is mine.” Ranger plucked up another pen, and then looked grimly at one that remained. “That’s someone else’s.”

I felt heat rising to my face. “It’s a GPS tracker?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking that your visit from those two thugs was designed to plant this.”

“How do we know it’s from them?”

He turned to face me, and he looked pained. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but how many other enemies do you have out there right now who would want to track your movements?”

I gave that some thought. “I mean, I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head, but you never know. Right?”

He slipped the mystery pen into his pocket, and dropped his own pen back into my bag. “I’m going to destroy it either way. As long as no one else immediately comes to mind, I think it’s safe for us to assume that the tracker is from Los Reyes.”

“Who?”

Ranger gestured for me to head back to the couch, and he followed me over after grabbing his sandwich. “Los Reyes de Corazones is the name of a drug cartel. Your two visitors the other night were Reyes.”

“Did you find them?”

“Not yet. But it was them. Los Reyes’s colors are red. One of the guys who came after you was wearing a red ballcap. It was no coincidence, given the Gabriella connection.”

That’s when it clicked in my brain. “You said Gabriella’s ex was a drug lord.”

Ranger nodded, and swallowed a bite of his sandwich before answering. “Nestor Valdez. He rules the cartel. He grew Los Reyes from infancy and has been at the helm for the past twenty years.”

“How big-time are these guys?” I asked.

“For the first decade or so, they stuck to South America, but then they started to expand north. They started distributing in the states, and they became a big enough thorn in the side for the DEA to start getting involved. About five years ago, an undercover DEA agent was killed while trying to infiltrate Valdez’s inner circle. Things got a little more personal for the US government after that, and Los Reyes have been high on the watch list since then.”

“Okay, but none of this explains why I got shot just for trying to find this Big Kahuna’s ex girlfriend.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Babe. You have an uncanny ability to walk into sticky situations.”

“Gee, thanks,” I drawled. “Was it a bad break-up or something?”

“Or something,” he said. He finished his sandwich and twisted on the couch to face me more fully. “Eight months ago, Gabriella was captured. Stolen right out from under Valdez’s nose. Valdez thinks that a rival gang took her. They assumed she was killed, because no one had seen or heard from her since then.”

“Until she showed up in Trenton,” I guessed.

“When you were asking around about Gabriella on Stark, I bet you got a lot of cold shoulders, right?”

“It was almost like people were afraid of her. They didn’t even want to look at her picture.”

He nodded. “It’s not very healthy to know Gabriella right now. You probably ran across people from both cartels while you were on the streets. The rival’s colors are blue.”

Realization dawned, and along with it, a renewed sense of indignation “My car?”

Ranger nodded again. “Yes. Par de Balos, the gang that tagged you. The name means ‘Pair of Bullets’.”

“Lovely imagery.”

One side of his mouth tipped up. “Only you could manage to stumble into this mess from the outside. It gets better. It turns out that a couple weeks ago, Los Reyes had a large shipment go missing.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a shipment of teddy bears or puppies.”

“Cocaine. About $20 million worth of cocaine.”

I gave a low whistle. “I can see how people would be a little on edge about that. But what’s the Gabriella connection?”

“Valdez and Los Reyes are pretty certain that Par de Balos is behind the missing shipment. And the timing with Gabriella is too coincidental - Valdez thinks that Balos turned her somehow, and that she’s conspiring with them now.”

I sensed doubt in Ranger. “What do you think?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know anything about the cocaine. All I know is that everyone is scared - both sides. No one is talking. If Par de Balos is responsible for the missing shipment, I think it was someone who’s way above the Trenton pay grade.”

“What about Gabriella? Do you think she’s in on it? Could she have stolen the shipment for Balos?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think Gabriella even knows Par de Balos.”

“Hold on, now I’m lost. You said Balos were the ones who kidnapped her.”

“I said Valdez thinks that they kidnapped her. Because that’s what I wanted him to think.”

I stared at him, but his blank face was in place, and I didn’t know how to read past it. I didn’t have a Ranger-to-mortal translation guide. “So who did kidnap her?”

“I did.”

I absorbed that for a minute. And another. Blinked. Ranger was watching my face, but his was still impassive. “Explain.”

“I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but you’ve got a fresh bullet hole that says I owe it to you. But you never heard any of this.”

He looked to me to make sure I understood, and I nodded eagerly. 

“I’m connected to an intelligence community that has been gathering evidence on Valdez and Los Reyes for years. They’re working on getting a trace on his entire network, so that when we cut off the head of the monster - Valdez himself - the whole cartel goes down with him. They don’t want to risk opening up a power vacuum and having someone else step up to lead Los Reyes, spilling more blood in his wake.”

Was I getting a glimpse into one of Ranger’s other lives? I was torn between intense curiosity and fear, not sure how much I wanted to know or what I could handle. 

He continued. “They got some HUMINT from someone embedded in Valdez’s organization, and it indicated that Gabriella might be an in-road to Valdez.”

“Wait, so like a spy?”

“Yes. An undercover operative. He’s still working his way up the ranks, and he isn’t in Valdez’s inner circle yet, but he managed to make contact with Gabriella. It turned out that the shine had worn off of the life she’d fallen into. He convinced her to come into a witness protection program until she can testify against Valdez and his cronies. But people who have gotten close to Valdez don’t tend to just walk away. You’re either loyal and at his side, or you’re dead.”

“So that’s where a staged kidnapping comes in?” I guessed.

“Right. The agency didn’t want to risk burning their operative if Valdez traced the kidnapping back to them, so we dressed up in Par de Balos colors because we knew it wouldn’t be hard for Valdez to imagine that the rival gang would take her.”

My brain was working so hard to process all of this that I could practically smell my hair burning. “So shouldn’t Gabriella be tucked away in some idyllic coastal town, fixing up her new Victorian house while falling in love with the local handyman? Isn’t that what happens in witness protection?”

“Maybe in romance novels and Hallmark movies, but in reality, the WitSec budget is really more third-floor-walk-up apartment, not so much single-family Victorian.”

“That’s disappointing. Seriously though, what is she doing in Trenton?”

“I have no idea,” he said. “Which means now it’s my turn to ask the questions. What did you learn when you asked around about her?”

“Practically nothing. Like you said, no one was talking.”

“You said she had a roommate.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get much from her. Gabriella had only gotten to town a couple weeks ago, and they didn’t know each other very well. She did tell me that Gabriella was sober, which was surprising.”

Ranger nodded. “Maybe she was. Or maybe she’s just had a lot of practice in hiding her habits. What else?”

“I went through the apartment and Gabriella’s room. It looked like she’d packed a bag.”

“Did the roommate have anything to say about who Gabriella hung out with? Had anyone been coming around the apartment?”

“She said it didn’t seem like Gabriella knew many people at all.” Then I remembered something else she’d said. “She said that Gabriella told her she’d come to Trenton looking for someone. That she had a message for him.”

Ranger’s eyebrows rose infinitesimally. “What kind of message?”

“She didn’t know.” Then I remembered something else, and I silently cursed myself.

“Babe? You trying to shake something loose in there?”

I stopped thunking myself on the forehead. “I have another message, too. It’s from the guys who shot me. I didn’t tell Morelli, because I wasn’t sure what the deal was with the Gabriella situation and what you were playing close to the vest, and I didn’t want to mess things up for you in case this message means something.”

“I’m listening.”

“Before you and Tank pulled up that night, those two guys were walking away, but one of them reminded the other that they were supposed to give me a message. They said ‘tell Bravo One to stop looking for Gabriella, and to watch his six’.”

Ranger went still. He was still looking at me, but I didn’t know if he was seeing me. I would need a mirror to tell whether or not he was still breathing.

“Does that mean something to you?” I prompted.

He was quiet for another moment. “Yeah.”

I gave him space to expand, but when it became clear he wasn’t going to, I prompted again. “And?”

“It means that this was on me.” He used his thumbs to crack the knuckles of each finger, and then flexed his hands into fists and relaxed them. And again. “They came after you because of me.”


	8. Chapter 7

There were no other headlights in front of or behind us while we wove through a maze of residential streets. Seemed this was a neighborhood that worked during the day. Streetlamps and porch lights threw enough light for me to see that the houses were modest and well-kept, the cars parked in driveways were serviceable, and landscaping was a crapshoot. We swung a left onto yet another nearly identical street, but this time, the SUV slowed halfway down and pulled up into one of the driveways.

I sat up straighter in my seat while we eased to a stop in front of a two-car garage. The garage was attached to a single-story brick house. The yard was tended, though non-decorative. A single mature tree stood in the middle of the lawn, casting shadows over a large front window and a small porch. 

“Are we there yet?” I asked.

From the driver’s seat, Tank threw me an exasperated look. Or maybe it was just his normal look, but it was easy to imagine the exasperation. I’d been peppering him with the same question for the past hour. “This is it.”

I unbuckled my seatbelt and was reaching for my door handle when Tank stopped me with a hand on my elbow and another pointed look. He probably couldn’t see me roll my eyes in the darkened cab, but I did it anyway. Then I zipped up my Kevlar vest like a good little hostage. And only then was I allowed to exit the car.

Tank let us in through the front door and stopped the low warning beeps of a security system by tapping a code into a keypad in the front entry. He threw a light switch and I stepped further into the house, taking it all in. 

A small living room with fireplace was directly off the main entry, and flowed straight back to a kitchen with a small dining table shoved into a corner. The kitchen sported stainless steel and beige granite, and there were two stools situated at the eat-in countertop. Large floor-length curtains hid what I presumed might be a sliding door to a backyard.

I looked around the living room. Couch, large armchair, coffee table, rug, bookcase. Something was missing. “No television?”

Tank shrugged. “If you’ll go stand away from any windows, I can do a quick run-through of the place.”

“As if you don’t know the whole house like the back of your hand?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t. This isn’t a Rangeman safe house.”

I felt myself working up for another fight, and I went hands to hips. “Then what the hell am I doing here? The whole point of this stupid middle-of-the-night whisking-me-away was supposedly to keep me safe. And now you’re telling me this isn’t a safe house at all? I may as well be in the middle of the Burg!”

He shook his head this time. “I just said it’s not a Rangeman safe house. It’s still a safe house, but it’s just Ranger’s.”

“Huh.” Armed with this new insight, my eyes flitted back over the room, seeing it in a new light. I knew that Ranger owned multiple properties across several cities. The part that had my Spidey senses tingling was that we were in Newark. This was where Ranger had grown up, and where he’d briefly gone to college. 

Could this be it? The Batcave?

I wandered over to the bookcase, which was full to bursting. I could recall seeing a couple of books here or there in Ranger’s apartment on the 7th floor of the Trenton Rangeman building, but nothing like this. Fiction mingled with nonfiction. I noted everything from a few Tom Clancys, to computer coding textbooks, to what looked like military training manuals. There were drawers at the bottom of the bookshelf, and being nosy, I sank to my knees and pulled them open. More training manuals were lined up neatly. 

From there, I made my way down the hall, ignoring Tank tailing me. I thought he was being just a tad bit overprotective with the whole ‘standing away from the windows’ thing and the following-my-every-move thing, but I couldn’t really blame him. With the mood Ranger had been in when he’d shipped me off, I wouldn’t want to be the one in charge of guarding my body right now.

One end of the house had a master bedroom - I peered in long enough to see a King-sized bed and not much else. There were doors to what I presumed to be a closet and an en-suite. Tank dropped my bag just inside the door, and then followed me while I continued my exploration. I crossed the living room again to the other side of the house. There was a guest bedroom with a double bed and a chest of drawers. Empty. A full bath with all the standard stuff. And the third and final bedroom was serving as an office.

A large wooden desk occupied the middle of the room. There was a monitor, but no computer. I plopped down into the chair and started combing through the drawers. Blank sticky notes, extra pens, paperclips. The cabinet attached to the desk was empty - no files, no binders, no nothing. I opened the sliding door of a closet and spied a paper shredder. Bin empty. Yep, I was starting to believe that this was Ranger’s house.

There was another bookshelf with similar material. Nearly identical to the one in the living room, with two drawers at the bottom. I pulled the first one open and found a bunch of computer paraphernalia and neatly-bundled cords. The second drawer, though, was a jackpot. I sunk to my knees again and stared at the hidden treasure.

I ran my fingers along the spines of two high school yearbooks. 2002 and 2003 - junior and senior year. I pulled them out of the drawer and thumbed through them. There were no signatures or notes or well-wishes scrawled on the inside covers, but they were real, all right. I hugged them to my chest and marveled at what I’d found.

  
###

  
The plan had been for Ranger to join me at the safe house as soon as he took care of some business in Trenton. After I’d given him the message for ‘Bravo One’, he’d sprung into action. He’d insisted that it wasn’t safe for me to stay in my apartment. Blame it on my gunshot wound, or my breakup with Morelli, or whatever, but I hadn’t actually put up much of a fight on that point. So sue me, I was feeling a little vulnerable. But that was when I’d thought he just meant that I needed to move into Rangeman for a few days.

I had been hastily packing a bag under Ranger’s watchful eye while he spoke on the phone with Tank. His side of the conversation was terse, but I’d started to gather that he was making plans for Tank to come pick me up and cart me off somewhere. Then I had a bit of fight in me. But Ranger was having none of it. He’d given me nothing but his blank face, and he hadn’t been in the mood to negotiate.

My intention had been to wait up for him. As far as I was concerned, he still owed me a lot of answers. But sometime around two in the morning, exhaustion had finally won out over my determination, and I nodded off. When I awoke, the rumpled covers next to me smelled like Bulgari. I pushed myself up to sit and looked around the master bedroom. It still looked pretty Spartan in the light of day. 

I got a jolt of pain when I used my core muscles to swing my legs off the bed, and I realized that I was several hours late for my pain pill. There was a pill and a glass of water waiting for me on the nightstand. After taking care of business in the bathroom and pulling on a pair of Pilates pants, I paused with my hand hovering over the doorknob of the bedroom. I held my breath, but still didn’t hear anything coming from the rest of the house. 

I emerged slowly, padding quietly down the hallway. I glanced in the living room first - empty. Kitchen, also empty. I was about to continue down the hall toward the office when I caught movement from the corner of my eye. 

Ranger was sitting outside on a deck, beyond the sliding glass door that led out of the kitchen at the back of the house. He had a laptop balanced on one arm of his chair and a cup of coffee on the other. His attention was on me when I slid the door open and eased myself down into a chair next to him. “Good morning.”

I considered that while I leaned over and snagged his coffee mug from him. “Is it?”

He was eyeing me warily. “You’re not still mad about this, are you?”

As a matter of fact, I had planned on being mad, yes. But as I took my first sip of coffee and enjoyed the feel of the already sun-warmed wooden deck beneath my bare feet, I decided to let it go. “How was your night?” I asked instead.

“Frustrating.”

I snorted inelegantly. “I can relate.”

He cut his eyes to me and his mouth tightened grimly, no doubt preparing for another fight. But I held up my hands in surrender.

“Right, sorry. I’m letting it go.”

“Thank you for being agreeable about this.”

I detected more than a hint of sarcasm, because I’d been anything but agreeable about being dragged out of my apartment last night. But I also took the thank you seriously, because Ranger didn’t tend to dole those out readily. 

“Do I get to know what set this off?” I asked. “It seemed like until I gave you the message I got from Los Reyes, I was on track to being able to spend the night in my own bed. What changed?”

Ranger closed his laptop and set it aside, turning to give me his full attention. “The message was for me. That changed things. It meant that Los Reyes somehow made a connection between Gabriella, me, and you.”

“What’s a ‘Bravo One’?” I asked.

“I am. It’s my position on the team that I work with.”

“They said to ‘tell Bravo One to stop sniffing around’ for Gabriella,” I said. “But you weren’t even looking for her. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seemed like you didn’t even know she was in town until you heard it from me.”

“You’re not wrong.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s a problem that they know who I am, and that they’ve connected me with Gabriella. I don’t know how they would have done that, unless they somehow found out that my team and I are the ones who captured her eight months ago.”

“That’s not good.”

That got me an almost-smile. “No, it’s not good. But the bigger problem is that they’ve connected the dots from me to you.”

“How did they do that?”

“I don’t know.” It was obvious that he didn’t appreciate that. “It could be as simple as they followed you to Rangeman after your first visit to the streets. Everyone on upper Stark is on high alert for Gabriella, and you could have picked up a tail as soon as you started asking around. Los Reyes and Balos have been feuding for years, but I added fuel to that fire when I pinned Gabriella’s capture on Balos. The missing shipment of coke is new - as far as I can tell, it went missing about three weeks ago.”

“The same time that Gabriella popped up in Trenton.”

Ranger nodded. “Word on the street is that Balos stole the shipment, and they’re using Gabriella’s presence and the missing coke to lure Valdez to the states.”

“Why would they want to do that?”

“They think getting him off of his home turf would make it easier to take him out.”

“What do you think?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Valdez has only left Colombia a handful of times in the past two decades, that we know of. I don’t see him coming to Trenton. But I expect there are already a few higher-level Reyes in place in the city, looking for both the coke and Gabriella.”

That thought made my stomach feel a little squishy. “What do you think they’re going to do to Gabriella when they find her?”

Ranger gave me a pointed look. “Remember what I told you about Valdez’s inner circle? Either loyal and at his side, or…”

“Dead.” I took another sip of coffee to distract me. “Jeez.”

“Babe,” he warned. “This isn’t one of your lost puppy causes.”

“Her roommate is worried about her.”

“She probably should be. But it’s still not your problem.”

“I’ve been thinking,” I began.

“Oh shit,” Ranger deadpanned.

I ignored him. “Suppose the person that Gabriella came to see in Trenton was you?”

He considered that for a few beats. “I don’t see how she would know who I really am, let alone where to find me.”

“You could say the same for Los Reyes, but they figured it out. Maybe Gabriella did, too.”

“When I found out that Gabriella was in Trenton, I reached out to the US Marshals service to try to find out what was going on. I wasn’t privvy to where she’d ended up after I turned her over to WitSec, but obviously I knew it wasn’t Trenton. I had a hell of a time getting through to anyone who knew anything, so I called in a meeting with the Commander of my team. I had to go to DC to meet with him while you were in the hospital.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” He leaned over to pluck his coffee mug out of my hands and take another sip, then gave it back. “He confirmed that the Marshals had reported Gabriella missing about a week before she got arrested in Trenton. But nothing else helpful. She had a job and had seemed to be integrating well into her cover. The Marshals who were responsible for her confirmed that she was clean and sober - they had her doing drug tests, and she was going to AA meetings regularly.”

“Could she have run away to start using again?”

“Maybe, but from what I hear, I doubt it. She seemed happy in her new life.”

“I’m sticking with the theory that she came to see you.”

“Why?”

“Her roommate said that she was looking for someone to give him a message.” I took another gulp of coffee to warm the cold pit that had grown in my stomach. “Sounds ominous.”

“I’m not convinced, but it’s still more information than anyone else has. The Marshals don’t have any idea where she is. We also don’t know why she’s using her real name, instead of the alias she got in WitSec. My Commander suggested that maybe she ran away back to Colombia.”

“Why come to Trenton first?”

“He didn’t have an answer to that one, either.” He stood from his chair and took my cup of coffee again. “Refill?”

“Thanks.” I stayed in my chair, legs stretched out in front of me, enjoying the morning sun. The deck took up about half of the back yard. The rest was surrounded by a wooden privacy fence which backed up to about 25 yards of open space, and beyond that, more houses. The open space was peppered with trees, giving some illusion of privacy. There were mature trees lining both sides of the yard, which shielded me from the neighbors. Still, I was a little surprised that Ranger was letting me hang out back here, alone, and without Kevlar. I could only hope that he’d cooled down some over the past ten hours or so, and leveler heads had prevailed.

Ranger reemerged with two fresh mugs and handed one to me before he sat back down.

“Where’s Tank?” I asked. He’d been sitting sentry in the living room when I dozed off.

“He drove home last night after I got in.”

I frowned at him. “It must have been really late. Are you sure he was okay to drive all that way?”

An almost-smile hid behind the weariness in Ranger’s eyes. “He was fine. We’ve been through sleep deprivation training. A late night isn’t enough to bother Tank.”

“Still. Did you check in to make sure he made it home okay?”

“His GPS tracker is right where it’s supposed to be,” he assured me. 

“How worried do I need to be about Los Reyes coming after me?” I’d been debating whether I wanted to know, but ultimately I’d decided that denial hadn’t been serving me well, so maybe I needed to change tack.

Ranger looked at me over his coffee. “You don’t need to be worried. That’s my job.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that, until we find Gabriella and get to the bottom of things with Los Reyes, you’ve got yourself a full-time bodyguard.”

Uh-oh. “And you’re the one who’s going to guard my body?”

That got me another smile. “Can you think of anyone more qualified?”

No. I couldn’t. But even with the most qualified bodyguard in the world, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea. “Don’t you have more important things to focus on? Like tracking down the guys who shot me, and finding Gabriella and figuring out why she seems to be at the top of multiple Most Wanted lists?”

“There is nothing more important to me right now than your safety,” he said. Then the smile returned. “And you know that your body is always important to me.”

It was starting to get a little warm out here, under the direct morning sun and Ranger’s undivided attention. I rolled my eyes as much at my own reaction as at him.

“As for the rest, there are Rangeman teams working around the clock on both fronts. We’re staking out Stark, tracking known members of both Los Reyes and Par de Balos, and searching for Gabriella.”

“So what do we do while your teams are out there? Kick back here and eat bonbons?”

“I’m working things from my own side,” he said. “I’m coordinating with the Marshals, the Trenton PD, and a few others. You’re scheduled to speak with Donnie Piemonte at 10 this morning, by the way. He still needs your statement about the shooting.”

I grabbed Ranger’s hand off the arm of his chair and twisted it to look at his watch. “Shouldn’t we get going, then? It’s already past 9. I’m going to be late.”

“It’s a video call,” he clarified. “I don’t want you going back to Trenton until this situation is better contained.”

My eyebrows went straight up to my hairline. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not safe there.”

I executed a perfectly chilling Burg death glare, even knowing that Ranger was utterly immune. “And it is here?”

“Reasonably so. I picked this house purposefully. It’s not tied to Rangeman in any way, in case Los Reyes somehow has access to our records. Only a handful of people know that it exists. Tank spent half an hour driving around in a maze last night before he brought you here, just to be sure you wouldn’t have a tail. No one will think to look for you here.”

“Or you,” I added. “We have to assume Los Reyes will be looking for you, too, right?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“What’s the point of a bodyguard if I’m going to be cooped up in the Batcave?”

“I thought you’d decided to let it go and be a willing participant in your safety.”

“That was before I knew I really was a hostage! Who knows how long it’s going to take to find those guys, or to find Gabriella? Heck, you just said she might be back in Colombia by now. I can’t hide out here forever. I can’t even hide out here for a few days. I need to get back to Trenton!”

“Why?”

I made a sound of exasperation. “Because it’s where my life is! I have work to do. I have five skips I need to find. I need to find a minivan to bring in Kate Fitz and I need to go to Dougie’s freaking flash sale this weekend!”

Ranger’s blank face was in place, and he watched me deflate after my small fit. I sank back into my chair and couldn’t help a small wince when my stitches pulled awkwardly. I squirmed in my seat to get more comfortable.

Ranger took my hand and pulled it over to rest on top of his on the arm of his chair. “How are you feeling?”

I decided to go with near total honesty. “I’d be feeling a lot better if I weren’t so worried about being able to pay my rent next week.”

He studied me for couple moments. “If I can manage a couple trips back to Trenton for us this week, so you can haul in your FTAs… that will make you feel better?”

“Yes.” The part I left out was that the light circles he was tracing on the back of my hand with his thumb were also making some progress on the feel-good front.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “If we do this, you’ll be careful?”

“I always try to be careful.”

His eyebrow rose infinitesimally. 

“I’ll try harder,” I promised.

He gave me a small nod. He lifted our joined hands, pressed his lips to the back of my hand, and released me. Then he gathered up his laptop and coffee mug and he was gone.


	9. Chapter 8

As much as I hated to admit it, spending the whole day lying low seemed to have done me some good. My stitches were hardly bothering me anymore, as long as I kept up on my pain pills and didn’t make any weird or sudden movements. Still, by the time the sun started to set, I was going out of my mind. 

As it turned out, he honest-to-goodness did not have a television in this house. I pillaged Ranger’s bookshelves, but wasn’t that drawn to the couple of novels I found. Spy thrillers weren’t really to my taste - I got enough of that sort of stress in my real life, I didn’t need to read about it in my downtime. I did read up on a couple of the military training manuals, just for kicks.

When Ranger emerged from the office after dusk, I showed him the front cover of my reading material. “I know how to rappel out of a helicopter now.”

“Good to know. I’ll have Tank add Air Assault to your list of skills on the company roster.”

That piqued my interest. “What are my other skills listed?”

“Intelligence. Research. Tracking. Distraction.” 

“What about my charm offensive?”

He smiled as he sat down on the couch beside me. “That would fall under ‘Distraction’. Or sometimes ‘Intelligence’.”

I picked at a nonexistent piece of lint on my black Pilates pants. He watched me patiently while I considered something I’d started thinking about in the hospital. “What if I wanted to add to that list of skills?”

“What did you have in mind?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “You know. Things like… self-defense? Capture technique?”

He was quiet and I snuck a glance over at him. His gaze was assessing.

“You don’t think I’m cut out for it?” I asked.

His gave me a look that said I was being ridiculous. “You know that’s not true. I’m just surprised. I think it’s great if you’re ready to take those things a little more seriously, but why now? I’ve offered you Rangeman training resources before.”

“Nothing like getting shot… again… to light a fire under your butt,” I said. “I’ve tried to stop attracting the psychos, stalkers, and killers, but I can’t seem to shake them. So I’ve decided that if I can’t stop them from coming after me, then at least I want to get better at defending myself.”

“And at captures?”

“One step at a time.”

He studied me for another moment. “Are these new skills still going to be useful to you in your new job?”

I carefully pulled one leg up and tucked it underneath me so I could turn and face him more fully. “What new job?”

“The one that goes with your life plan.”

I felt my eyes widen and heat rise to my face. Was he talking about the ill-fated F.M.L. plan? “What do you know about my life plan?”

He shifted on the couch, reached his fingers into a pocket of his cargo pants, and pulled out a piece of yellow legal paper. He handed it to me.

Connie’s handwriting stared up at me when I unfolded the paper. Sure enough, right at the top it read ‘Stephanie’s Life Plan’, followed by the three steps. Well, this was embarrassing. “Where did you get this?”

“I lifted it from your bag when I was looking for trackers.” His eyes were still locked on me, studying me closely, and they were free of remorse.

I released my bottom lip from my teeth and willed away the heat in my cheeks. I folded the paper back up, ripped it in half, and then ripped it in half again. No doubt there were rules against littering in the Batcave, but I flagrantly disregarded them as I threw the shredded pieces over my shoulder. “That plan went up in flames.”

“What happened?”

“I still want a job I’m good at,” I told him. “But that’s why I’m talking to you. I’m wondering if maybe I can learn to be a little better at the one I already have.”

He chewed on that for a moment. “How’s the rest of the plan going to feel about that decision? Especially if I help you?”

“The rest of the plan is toast.”

His brow rose. “Does the rest of the plan know that?”

“Yep. Unequivocally.”

I’d dropped Ranger’s gaze again, and he reached out to tilt my chin back up. “How serious is it this time?”

“Serious as a heart attack,” I told him. “And it’s not just ‘this time’. It’s the time.”

He stared at me like he was trying to read the back of my skull. “Why?”

The intensity was too much. I grabbed Ranger’s wrist to pull his fingers away from my chin so I could break eye contact. I brought his hand down to rest between us, with my fingers still circling his wrist. “We have different pictures.”

“Meaning?”

“Of ‘Someday’,” I clarified. “Morelli wants a stable life with kids and a housewife who he doesn’t have to worry will get shot at, or have those psychos, stalkers, or killers trailing her home.”

“And what do you want?”

I looked back up to meet his eyes again. They were riveted, and I felt put on the spot. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“You’ve got options,” he told me. Ranger was still wearing his blank face, and I’d almost never been more in need of a decoder ring to understand what he was thinking.

“Does that mean you’ll help me with the training?”

“If that’s what you want.”

I blew out a sigh. “Right now, I pretty much just want to solve this mystery with Gabriella and put it behind us.”

“That would be step one,” he agreed.

“Uh-uh.” I shook my finger at him. “I’m not doing this again. Lula and Connie already tried to wrangle me into that freaking three-step program, and look how well that turned out.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Figure of speech, Babe.”

“So where do we stand on the Gabriella front?” I asked. “What’s the news?”

That wiped any trace of humor from Ranger’s face, which was regrettable, but I was still feeling antsy about it. If I couldn’t be doing more to help find her, I at least wanted to be kept in the loop.

“There is none,” he said. “She’s either no longer in Trenton, or if she is, she’s doing a damn good job of staying underground. Which isn’t altogether a bad thing, since we’re not the only ones looking.”

“What happens if Los Reyes or Par de Balos find her before we do?”

“Tough to say. If Par de Balos find her first, then maybe they turn her over to Valdez in attempt to prove their innocence and as a show of good faith. Los Reyes has been making their lives pretty difficult ever since they escalated the war between them.”

“And if someone from Los Reyes finds her first?”

He shrugged. “I imagine they have some questions about their missing shipment. They’ll likely try to get her to talk.”

“What if she’s not the one behind the missing cocaine?”

He gave me a grim look, and I winced. Yeah. Without any information to share, Gabriella didn’t have much to offer Los Reyes. No matter what way you looked at it, it wasn’t good news for her if either gang found her. It made me question, not for the first time, why she would risk her life to run away from witness protection. What did she stand to gain?

“You have people looking for her, though?” I needed some reassurances right about then. I wasn’t liking the squishy feelings I was getting when I thought about Gabriella’s fate.

“I have everyone looking for her,” Ranger said. “But they’re doing it carefully. Part of the trouble is, we don’t want to accidentally lead one of the gangs straight to her. I’ve got men camped out at her apartment, others covertly staking out all the known Reyes and Balos hideouts, and I’ve got a crew driving around with your GPS tracker, trying a proactive approach to lure Reyes out so we can nail them down for questioning.”

I shuddered to think about the type of ‘questioning’ that skinny guy or gargantuan would be subjected to if Rangeman got ahold of them. “I thought you were going to just destroy that tracker.”

“This suits my purposes better. My men have confirmed that Reyes are tailing them. I’m assuming they’re counting on you to lead them to Gabriella.”

“Fat chance of that, since I’m stuck here,” I grumbled. 

“It’s working, for now, to throw them off the scent, so the other crews have a little more privacy for the real search. And to give you a little more privacy, too. As long as Reyes are trailing your GPS tracker around Trenton, we don’t have to worry about them looking for you elsewhere.”

I sat up straighter. “That means it’s safe for me to go back to Trenton and get some work done. I can stay off their radar, since I’m already on it.”

“You’re not going to give up on this, are you?” he asked.

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” I argued. “You’ve got your computer and your work and your coordinating or whatever to keep you busy, but everything I need to do is back in Trenton.”

“I’m pretty sure that ‘nothing’ is exactly what you’re supposed to be doing. I don’t understand why I keep having to remind you that you got shot less than -”

“That was days ago!”

He glanced at his watch. “Less than 96 hours ago,” he finished.

“You get shot all the time.” I poked him in the shoulder for emphasis, near the site of his most recent gunshot wound. “I know for a fact that you don’t let that stop you from getting your job done.”

He was quiet for a minute. Ha! Probably he was trying to think up a rebuttal that wouldn’t make him a complete hypocrite. 

Since his resolve was maybe wavering, I pushed on. “Look at me.” I gestured at myself. “I’m fine. I’m ready to get back out there.”

He leaned back against the couch and pulled his hand away from me, scrubbing it across his face. He studied me while he ran his hand along his jaw. “I’m not.”

I blinked at him. “You’re not ready to get back to work?”

“I’m not ready for you to get back on the streets.” He let his words hang in the air for a moment. “I can’t get the image out of my head. You hit the pavement so hard and fast after the gun went off. I was already running for you, but I knew I was too late. I thought you were dead.”

His voice was low, his tone matter-of-fact. We may as well have been talking about the weather. But the longer I looked at him, the more I saw. The nearly imperceptible tension in the set of his shoulders. The smallest bit of tightness at the corners of his eyes. 

He was looking at me in that way he had; the way that made it seem like he was listening to what I had to say, even when I wasn’t speaking. I had no idea how to respond to that, so I just said, “But I’m not.”

He nodded slowly. “I need you to stay that way.”

“Dying isn’t on my agenda this week.”

The look on his face said that he didn’t find that funny.

I was starting to lose patience with this merry-go-round of a conversation. “I’m sorry that you were worried. But maybe now you have some small sense of what the rest of us feel when you head off on your mysterious missions every other month. And yet I doubt that you have to go ten rounds with someone who’s trying to keep you from doing what you need to do. You can’t keep me locked away in a safe house 24/7, or wrap me up in bubble wrap. And frankly, it’s a little demeaning that you think you need to try.”

By the end of my speech, I’d worked my way up in volume a bit and my eyes were narrowed. Ranger was still sitting back, taking it in.

“You worry about me?” he finally said.

My eyes rolled so hard that it was an entire body movement. “Of course I worry about you. Idiot.”

After another few moments while he continued to study me, his shoulders lost some of their tension, and he looked a little more relaxed. Or maybe the look was resigned. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” I scoffed, but in reality, I was a little surprised that he was conceding.

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting to keep you safe,” he began. As my eyes narrowed once more, he held up a hand. “But I will admit that this probably isn’t the only way to go about it. You’re still stuck with a bodyguard until we wrap up the Gabriella situation. And I still think it’s a bad idea for you to be staying in your apartment. Los Reyes obviously know where you live.”

I waved that off. “That’s fine. I can concede on that point. I don’t want to wake up with skinny guy and gargantuan standing over my bed any more than you want me to.”

He was quiet for another moment, and then spoke carefully. “I don’t want you staying at Rangeman, either. I’m being cautious in the way that I’m composing the teams who are working on this, and how we socialize it inside the company. I still don’t know how Los Reyes connected me to Gabriella’s kidnapping. There are very few people who know about the work that I do with that team. A couple of them are inside the company. Given the situation, I’d be stupid to not consider a potential leak.”

I felt my eyes widen. “You think you have a traitor on your team?”

He shook his head. “I really don’t think so. But until I can say ‘no’ with absolute certainty, I’m being careful with how I disseminate information.”

“What does that mean?”

“For example, Tank is the only one who knows where we’re staying. That won’t change anytime soon.” It went without saying that Tank was trusted implicitly. 

“You want us to keep staying here,” I guessed.

He nodded, watching for my reaction.

“That’s fine, as long as we can go back to Trenton during the day. I can keep a low profile, and I can even deal with a bodyguard, but I need to keep working.”

“Okay.”

I raised my eyebrows. I hadn’t expected him to acquiesce quite so easily. Less than 24 hours ago, after hearing the message for ‘Bravo One’, he’d been pacing my living room, about as tense as I’d ever seen him. He couldn’t wait to bundle me up in Kevlar and ship me off to safety. I was lucky that he’d only sent me as far as Newark and not, say, Switzerland. I wasn’t sure whether it was my speech that got through to him, or if he’d just had enough time to cool down, or if being stuck in this house with me all day was enough to reassure him that I was still alive and kickin’. Whatever his reasoning, I wasn’t going to question it.

“While you’re being so agreeable, I have another request,” I told him.

“How much am I going to hate it?”

“I guess that depends on what sort of diet you’re following at the moment.” I smiled. “I was going to request some pizza.”

###

Ranger treated me to another surprise by actually taking me out for dinner. He insisted that we drive, both for safety and in deference to my injury, even though the pizza place was only about six blocks from the house. It was a hole-in-the-wall with a tiny eat-in area, but Ranger was able to nab us a booth in a corner where he could sit with his back to the wall and keep an eye on the front and back doors. The pizza rivaled even Shorty’s from back home, and Ranger seemed to know the guys working the counter and the oven, based on his head nod of acknowledgment for one and the complicated handshake exchanged with the other.

When we were back at the house, there was a brief awkward moment when I hemmed and hawed a little over sleeping arrangements. When I emerged from the master bathroom after brushing my teeth, he was already sprawled out in bed. I froze, deer in headlights. He tucked an arm underneath his head and regarded me with some amusement.

“You coming?”

“Erm,” I managed.

“To bed?” he clarified with a grin.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Maybe I should sleep in the guest room?”

“Babe.” His tone made it clear that in this instance, ‘Babe’ meant ‘Quit being ridiculous and get your ass in bed’. “We’re just sleeping. You’re injured.”

“Actually, the doctor’s instructions said that sex was fine, as long as I don’t do anything crazy.” I felt heat rise to my face, not sure why I’d felt the need to disclose that. So sue me, I was feeling a little flustered.

A corner of his mouth tipped up. “Good to know. But I’m still not going to jump you. Not tonight. You’ve had a long couple of days, and you need your sleep.”

It wasn’t that I begrudged him his place in the bed. It was his bed, after all. And we’d slept together before, of course. In every sense of the phrase. But every time we’d slept together in the traditional sense of the phrase, Ranger had joined me after I was already asleep. Racking my brain, I couldn’t think of a single instance in which I’d crawled into bed next to him while we were both still awake, and without imminent plans for activities other than sleeping. 

Granted, it was possible that not all of my brain power was dedicated to the memory search, since at least part of me was distracted by the display before me. Ranger’s posture was relaxed, but with his hand tucked behind his head, the muscles in his arm were flexed. Although Ranger didn’t need to flex for his muscles to pop. My eyes traveled from his face, down to his shoulders, skimmed over his chest, and roamed across his abs. They got a little hung up there, focused on the thin trail of dark hair leading down from his navel and dipping below the sheet at his waist. 

“Don’t push it,” Ranger said, his voice low and gravelly. I looked back up to his face to find him still watching me, and his eyes had gone all molten chocolate. I knew that look, but he was simultaneously shaking his head. “Just get in.”

I folded like a cheap suit. I rounded the foot of the bed to climb in on the other side, the one furthest away from the door. Ranger flipped the switch on the bedside lamp next to him and threw us into darkness. He extended an arm out to me and I got comfy on my side, facing him, with my front pressed against his side and using part of the bicep I’d been ogling as my pillow. As much as I hated to admit it, Ranger must have been right on at least one count, because I was asleep in what felt like a matter of seconds.

###

The next morning, I convinced Ranger that I would be a danger to myself and others if we didn’t get a donut in me ASAP. His safe house had zero sugar anywhere - even his peanut butter was the stupid ‘all natural’ kind - and I was experiencing some serious withdrawal. He could hardly expect me to be on top of my game and remain aware of my surroundings in that state. 

Before we hit the highway back to Trenton for the day, Ranger parked the car on the street a few blocks down from a coffee shop that he pointed out to me.

“You’re sure they have donuts?” I asked dubiously.

“Pretty sure. If not, they’ll have some sort of pastry that should tide you over.”

He walked alongside me down the sidewalk, letting me set the pace. My stitches were hardly bothering me anymore, but I was doing my best to remember to take it easy. And when I forgot, Ranger was there to remind me.

An easy ten minutes later, we were headed back to the car. I was clutching a pastry bag with an old fashioned donut and a bear claw in one hand, and a fancy mocha latte with whipped cream in the other. As expected, Ranger had ordered green tea. He’d already had his day’s allotment of coffee before we left the house. Probably he was also doing penance for the pizza he’d eaten the night before.

I had my head in the pastry bag when it happened. I heard an “Oh, shit” from Ranger, and in a flash, he grabbed me around the waist and spun me around.

My heart rate kicked up a notch and I barely managed to keep my grip on my snacks. “What? What is it?” 

“Keep your head down. Keep walking,” he murmured. He slung his arm across my shoulders and hurried us along the sidewalk, which I took as a good sign - at least we weren’t diving for cover. Maybe we hadn’t been spotted. 

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Carlos!” A voice from behind us, followed by quickened footsteps. 

Ranger froze and I sucked in some air while we both listened to the footsteps approaching us from behind. He still had one arm around me and the other hand around his coffee cup - he hadn’t dropped either to go for his gun, which I was thinking was also a good sign. 

“What are you doing here?” The voice behind us didn’t sound threatening. The lilt on the question was one of pleasant surprise.

“Brace yourself,” Ranger whispered. Then he squared his shoulders and used his grip on me to turn us both around again. 

I found myself face to face with a very pretty Latina woman. She was my height, and maybe a couple years younger. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a bun. She was wearing yoga pants and a tank top that both fit her like a second skin. And she was smiling up at Ranger like he hung the stars. 

Ranger gave her a somewhat reluctant smile in return. “Anita.”

Her eyes lingered on me, and I’m sure that I made quite a sight. Still not sure what was happening, my mouth was slightly agape, and I was clutching both my pastry bag and my coffee to my chest. 

She cocked her head and turned back to Ranger. She didn’t say a word, but she did the annoying single-eyebrow-lift that Ranger could do, and that always spoke volumes.

He expelled a breath and I felt some of the tension go out of him. He removed his arm from around my shoulders and brought his hand to the small of my back. “Anita, this is Stephanie.”

The woman’s eyes lit up, and she grinned at me. That’s when it clicked into place for me, because the resemblance was suddenly undeniable. I’d know that 200-watt smile anywhere. The rest of the introduction was superfluous, but Ranger gave it anyway.

“Stephanie, this is Anita. My sister.”  



	10. Chapter 9

“Stephanie!” Anita enthused. “It’s so great to finally meet you!”

“It’s great to meet you, too,” I managed to get out. What did she mean, finally? It was my turn then to give Ranger the single-eyebrow-lift, except I’d never been able to perfect that move. Just as well, since he wasn’t looking at me anyway. He was eyeing his sister warily.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him again. “I didn’t even know you were back in town.”

“It’s been a busy week,” Ranger said flatly. 

“Too busy for a phone call?” she pressed. “A text message? ‘Hey Anita, I’m back from the jungle or whatever. Still alive. Thought you’d want to know. Give my love to the kids.’”

I snorted, and then immediately pressed my lips together to squash my smile when Ranger shot me a look. I busied myself with a sip of my coffee.

“I got back late last Friday,” Ranger said.

Anita cocked her head at him. “So it really has been almost a whole week? Seriously, not even a phone call? No one mentioned at Sunday dinner that you were back, so I have to assume you didn’t call Mama or Papa or anyone, either.”

“I’ve been working.”

Anita seemed to shrink by about an inch and a half as her shoulders slumped and her posture went resigned.

I was caught between the two of them, blinking, scrambling to grab the bits and pieces of information they’d just scattered like confetti. Ranger had just confirmed what I’d so far only suspected - that he’d come straight to my apartment last Friday as soon as he got back into town. And I’d also learned that apparently there was such a thing as a Sunday dinner that presumably involved members of Ranger’s family, including a Mama and a Papa. Last but not least, Anita’s reaction to his ‘work’ excuse confirmed that she was accustomed to that particular brand of write-off and wasn’t expecting to get any further by questioning him. At least I wasn’t the only one. A bit comforting, that.

Anita perked up considerably, the smile returning to her face. “Oh, duh! You’re here for Cisco’s party, right?”

“No. Actually, we’re heading back to Trenton right now.”

Anita was looking partially crestfallen and partially annoyed, so I jumped in. “We’re coming back tonight, though. I’m sure you can make it in time for the party,” I told Ranger.

“Great! He’ll be glad that you can make it!” Anita said. Then she turned to me. “And Stephanie, of course you have to come, too.”

I blinked, not having expected that part. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“Of course you can. You just said that you’re both coming back here tonight, right?”

Well, damn. She got me there.

She pushed on. “Everyone will be there, and I know that they’d love to meet you. This is actually perfect. It’ll be super casual, just a backyard barbecue at our parents’ house.”

“I’m really not sure that’s a good idea,” I stammered. The idea of meeting Ranger’s parents was… thrilling. Terrifying. Confusing. All of the above.

Anita waved off my concern. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“For you,” Ranger muttered darkly.

I looked up again to see him still looking at his sister. This was a whole new facet to Ranger that I’d never seen before; one I’d never even imagined existed. Surly, reluctant sibling. Who would’ve thought? Logically, I knew that Ranger had a family. He’d told me that he had four sisters and a brother. He’d mentioned his parents in passing, as well as a grandmother. Obviously, that meant that he’d grown up as part of a big family. Somehow though, I’d never quite put that part together. It was hard to imagine Ranger ‘growing up’ at all - being a kid, annoying his siblings, causing his Mama heartburn. 

Now that I thought about it, this was a huge gap in my knowledge of Ranger. And some higher power had just gifted me an opportunity to close that gap. Who was I to squander a divine gift?

“We’ll be there,” I said. The burning sensation on the back of my neck could only be the result of Ranger turning his stare on me, but I ignored it.

“Great!” Anita hiked her bag up on her shoulder. “I’ve got to run, I’m late for a Pilates class. I’ll see you both tonight!”

Ranger’s hand left the small of my back when Anita gave him a quick hug, and then she turned to me. I returned the hug awkwardly, both of my hands still occupied by my breakfast and coffee. Add this to the list of things I never would’ve thought to be true - Ranger’s family were huggers. 

Ranger returned his hand to my back to usher me down the sidewalk and back to the car, and I amended that thought. He had always been touchy-feely with me. Maybe I wasn’t so surprised about the hugging, after all. 

He ushered me into the car and then angled in on the driver’s side without further comment. We drove for about ten minutes, and right when I started thinking that maybe he was really just going to leave it at that, he finally spoke.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started. “Maybe the Newark house isn’t actually the safest place for you. I have another safe house up in Maine that might be better. You could -”

“Don’t even try it.”

“It would be -”

“Nope.” I shot him a look with no small amount of mirth. “There’s no backtracking your way out of this one, mister. Come hell or high water, you’re going to that party. Who’s Cisco, anyway?”

“My brother. His birthday was last weekend.”

“Why is his party tonight, then?”

“Because his wife was out of town,” he said. “She’s a pilot.”

“Why don’t you want to go to the party?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go. I’ve just had a few other things on my mind,” he said pointedly. 

“Is this the type of family thing that you’d usually go to, all else being equal?”

“You mean if you didn’t have two different cartels after you, and hadn’t been shot less than five days ago?”

“Geez louise, you and this whole me getting shot thing…” 

He tore his eyes from the road long enough to give me a dark look, and I shrugged it off. 

“Well?”

“Barring all that, and if I were in town, and if I didn’t have to work, and if I had time to drive up here… then, yeah. I’d go.”

“Then you’re going,” I told him. “You don’t get to use me as an excuse to ditch this.”

He didn’t have a response to that. His gaze was back on the highway, his hands at ten and two. After a few minutes, I decided I had more to say before he fully settled into zen mode.

“You don’t have to take me, if you don’t want to.” 

He stayed quiet for nearly a minute after that, and as each second passed, a ball of strange, unnamed emotions grew tighter and tighter in my chest. Finally, he spoke. “I’m game if you are.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He frowned, though he kept his gaze straight ahead. “Why would I be uncomfortable?”

“I don’t know.” I fiddled with my seat belt. “I mean, they’re your family. I don’t want to horn my way in or anything. You didn’t seem very excited for us to run into Anita. If you’d be more comfortable if you didn’t have to introduce me to anyone else, then you should just go without me tonight.”

“Babe.” He reached over to pluck my hand from the strap of my seat belt and held it in his, resting both against the middle console. “It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you I’m trying to protect.”

“Don’t you think you’re taking this bodyguard thing a little too far? You really think I’ll be at risk while attending a family barbecue?” 

A corner of his mouth tipped up. “It’s a different kind of risk. In this case I’m not worried about your safety, it’s more about your sanity. My family can be a little… intense.”

“Have you met my family?”

The twitch spread into a full smile. “My family is different. There are more of them, for one thing. And they’re going to be all over you. I’ve never introduced a woman to them before.”

I turned fully in my seat to gape at him in profile. “Never?”

He thought about it. “Obviously they’ve met Rachel.”

I nodded. Obviously.

“But no one else. Not since I was about 12.”

“I sincerely hope you weren’t bringing women home at the age of 12.”

He grinned. “Not a woman. And not plural. Just one girl.”

“And now me?”

His eyes flitted to me briefly and then back to the road. “And now you.”

I leaned back in my seat and turned my attention to the scenery flashing by outside the window, ignoring the butterflies that were swarming in my stomach.

###

“What’s the number one rule?” Ranger asked again.

I rolled my eyes, but answered dutifully. “Stay safe.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Maintain awareness of my surroundings. Remember my resources,” I recited dully. “And don’t hesitate to use them.”

Ranger gave one sharp nod. Satisfied.

Halfway between Newark and Trenton, he’d pulled off the highway and driven us to the back parking lot of a deserted office complex that looked like it had just completed construction. We’d spent half an hour practicing some very basic self-defense moves. Ranger had produced a shiny new stun gun, a can of heavy-duty defense spray, and a baby Glock from the back of his SUV. I recognized the gun; he’d shared it with me before. It wasn’t my preferred gun to handle, but then again, I’d never met a gun that I did prefer. All things considered, I supposed the baby Glock would suit my needs just fine. Particularly since I was hoping that my needs for a gun would be zilch.

Ranger had taken us through several scenarios - what I would do if someone approached me from behind, what I would do if they rushed me from the side, and so on and so forth. He talked me through each scenario first, and then we role-played each one. Ranger played the assailant and I played myself. He never forgot about my gunshot wound, and he took care to be extra gentle with me. By the time we were done, my success ratio in fending off my fake-attacker was only about one and a half out of three times, but I placated myself with the knowledge that my attacker was Ranger. Probably, any real attacker I may encounter would be a little less capable than him. 

“Where are we headed first?” he asked me from the driver’s seat. I hadn’t noticed that he’d pulled off of State Street and we were pulling into another parking lot. This one was in front of a convenience store, and he didn’t turn the car off, just put it in park. “Who have you got?”

I pulled my FTA files from my bag and handed them over, watching while he flipped through them. After he’d had a chance to review them all, he flipped back to the middle of the stack and handed me a file. “Let’s start with one that’s relatively low-risk.”

I opened it up and looked down at the mug shot in front of me. Roger Klueger. “Oh, goody. Armed robbery. You and I must have very different definitions of low-risk.”

“I picked based on location,” he said. “I’m aiming for us to not go near Stark or spend too much time hanging out in the Burg.”

“Why not the Burg?”

“Los Reyes will likely have eyes out for you there.”

My heart clunked around a little as realization settled over me. “My parents are being watched?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t look like it. But I have men on them 24/7 right now, just in case.”

“Thank you,” I managed. I let out a slow breath and tried to calm my heart rate after that spike of fear. “But then why can’t we hang out in the Burg?”

“It’s mostly precaution. I still have a team out there who are carrying the tracker that Reyes planted on you. They’re still being followed, so it seems like no one has caught on yet. I’d like to keep it that way as long as we can, and that means that the less you’re seen out in public, the better.”

“Got it. So we steer clear of my usual haunts.”

“What’s your plan for Roger Klueger?”

“Um.” I doubted that Ranger would appreciate that my plan consisted of wandering around Roger’s usual haunts until I got lucky. “My research indicates that when he’s not at home, he’s either at the video game store on Sheridan, or he’s at his mother’s house.”

“Where’s home?”

“Vine and Maple.”

“We’ll try there first.”

Turned out, Roger wasn’t at home. Ranger had already sent a pair of his men to drive by the video game store, and they confirmed he wasn’t there, either. That left his mother’s house. If we struck out there, too, then I’d be out of luck. Roger was one of my highest-bond FTAs at the moment, and if I could bring him in, I’d make a decent dent in the amount needed for my rent next week. I was keeping my fingers crossed that the universe would throw me some pity luck, and that Roger was going to be at his mother’s house.

We were heading back down State Street, having essentially just made a big loop around the east side of town. I was looking out the window, feeling a little surly that we’d just wasted the last hour when I knew my time in Trenton had a limit on it, when I took notice of our surroundings.

“Pull in here!” I shouted.

To his credit, Ranger hardly blinked. He flipped his turn signal, cut across two lanes of traffic like a hot knife through butter, and pulled into the parking lot of the Cheshire Motel. Once the car was in park, he turned to me. “Not that I’m complaining, but when did our plans for the afternoon change?”

“It’s not what you think,” I told him. Although maybe we could spare an extra twenty minutes for… No. I blinked the mental images away. “One of my FTAs was arrested here while she was sort of stalking her husband. I want to look around, see if anyone knows him.”

“Is there a reason that we’re investigating the husband, and not the FTA herself?”

My only response to that was a sharp look in Ranger’s direction while I climbed out of the car, and I closed the door on his soft chuckle. He followed me to the front door of the motel and into the lobby, where a pimply-faced youth sleepily manned the front desk, looking far too stoned to likely be of any help. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try.

Ranger stood at parade rest near the door while I approached the desk. The youth’s nametag read Derek. “Good morning.”

Derek blinked slowly at me. “Can I help you?”

I flashed him a smile, figuring I’d try the charm offensive first. “Gosh, I hope so. I’m looking for someone.”

“Lady, you’re in the wrong place. Does this look like a lost and found? This is the type of place where people come when they don’t want to be found.”

Fair point. I tried a wider smile, and then leaned my elbows on the counter and pitched myself forward a bit, letting the guy get a view of some moderate cleavage displayed by my V-neck tank. “His name’s Chris Fitz.”

Derek snorted. “Yeah. You’re not the first lady to come looking for that guy.”

He hadn’t even glanced once at my chest, so I gathered myself up and changed tack. Probably the types of women he was used to seeing had a little more than a V-neck’s worth of cleavage going for them. “Here’s the deal. I know that he’s come here before, and I’m willing to bet it wasn’t just once.”

“We got a lot of regulars.”

“When do you usually see Chris Fitz?”

“Why would I tell you anything? What’s in it for me?”

This guy was barking up the wrong tree if he was looking for a bribe. I still only had fifteen dollars on me, and not a whole lot more to my name. But since the charm offensive hadn’t worked, I could go the other way. I pulled a badge out of my back pocket. I flipped it open and flashed it at Derek with my best menacing scowl. “How about charges for obstructing justice?”

Clearly, it wasn’t within my power to charge Derek with anything. The badge I’d flashed came from Amazon. There were better sources for fake law enforcement badges, but my Amazon one was a lot cheaper. But Derek didn’t know any of that.

He went pale, and his eyes started to dart around the lobby. His gaze landed on Ranger, and as if he were seeing him for the first time, his eyes widened and he took a tiny step back. “Whoa. Whoa, whoa, hold up. What do you need to know?”

“When was the last time you saw Chris Fitz?” I demanded.

“Last Friday,” he said hurriedly.

“Does he come here often?”

Derek nodded. “Yeah. Every week. Sometimes multiple times a week, but always at least once. On Fridays. Fridays at noon, like clockwork.”

“Is he always with the same woman? Or different women?”

Derek’s eyes widened even further and he held up his hands, palms out. “I’ve never seen a woman. I swear.”

Huh. Okay, so he has his women meet him in the room. “Let me tell you how this is going to go. I’m going to come back here tomorrow, a little after noon. And you’re going to tell me what room Chris Fitz is in, and give me a key.”

“I can’t -”

I interrupted him and leaned in close once more, keeping my voice low. “See that guy standing behind me?”

Derek’s eyes darted to Ranger and then back as quickly as humanly possible. He nodded like a bobblehead.

“He’s going to be with me tomorrow, too. And if we don’t get a key to Chris Fitz’s room, he’s not going to be happy. You don’t want to be responsible for his unhappiness.”

Derek started shaking his head, back and forth, eyes still wide. He didn’t stop until I backed away. 

“We understand each other?” I verified.

More nodding.

I gave him the pleasant smile again. “Great. Thanks, Derek. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

I turned on my heel and exited the lobby, Ranger falling into step behind me when I passed him. He moved his hand to my back while we crossed the parking lot back to his car. “Nice intimidation, Babe.”

“Thanks. But I think it was the threat of you, just standing there, that really got to him the most.”

“Even so. That’s just an example of remembering and using your resources.”

I supposed that could be true. That made me feel a little better.

“But speaking of resources, remind me to get you a real badge,” Ranger said.

“You mean a real, fake badge?”

“Yours looks like it came from a toy store.”

“It’s from Amazon,” I corrected. “It came with a Naughty Cop Halloween costume.”

A smile pulled at Ranger’s mouth and he stopped us next to the passenger side of the SUV. “What else came with the costume?”

“A little romper that zips all the way down to the crotch, and garter holsters.”

Ranger’s gaze slipped down my body and then his hand followed, caressing the outside of my thigh while he pressed me closer against the car door. His eyes were doing that sort of melty-chocolate thing again, so I thought it best to divert.

“I only bought the costume because the whole thing was still cheaper than any other passable badge I could find online.”

“Seems it works,” he said, inclining his head back toward the lobby and the poor guy who was likely now suffering from an intense bout of paranoia. 

“It’s come in handy.”

“Do you still have the rest of the costume?”

“No,” I lied. 

Pretty sure he knew I was fibbing. He studied me for another couple of seconds, and then he leaned down to kiss me. Just when I was getting ready to see his kiss and raise it, he pulled away and stepped back. I stayed plastered to the door for another few seconds, getting my bearings.

“Remind me why we’re looking for Chris Fitz, when his wife is the one who’s FTA.”

Ranger was good at compartmentalizing. Me, not so much. He had always been able to switch from business to flirting and back again in the blink of an eye, and I found myself panting and out of breath - often both physically and metaphorically - while trying to catch up. 

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “His wife suspects him of cheating, and she was arrested in the process of trying to catch him in the act. I guess I just feel like I don’t want him to think that he’s getting away with it.”

“Babe.”

I sighed. “Plus, I’m hopeful that I can get him to watch their three kids for long enough for me to run Kate Fitz to the courthouse to get rebonded.”

“So we’re going after Fitz tomorrow?” The layperson wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the hint of exasperation, but I was pleased to say that I’d learned at least a couple of things about Ranger in the years that I’d known him. He was letting me take the lead, for which I was grateful, but I knew it was costing him. He was used to calling the shots.

“We’ll swing by here first to see if we can catch Chris, and then either way, we’ll head to the Fitz residence and bring in Kate. I’ll ask Mary Lou to be on standby to babysit if we need her to.”

“I’d rather get everything wrapped up today, if we can. The less time we spend in Trenton, the better, for now.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don’t think five captures in one day is entirely feasible for me.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself.” 

“Just trying to be realistic. Besides, don’t forget that one of my five skips is the girl who is somehow evading an entire cavalry of Rangeman guys who have been turning the city upside down looking for her. If your men can’t find her, I doubt I’m going to have much better luck.”

“If only that were true,” Ranger said. “But Gabriella is trouble. And you have an uncanny ability to find trouble, even when you’re not looking for it.”

“It’s not like I ever go looking for trouble on purpose,” I protested. 

Ranger did the one-eyebrow thing that very clearly said he didn’t believe me.

A variety of scenarios in which I had, in fact, sought out trouble flashed before my eyes like a mental View Master. I winced. “Okay, fine. Maybe on occasion.”

Ranger went around the front of the SUV to climb into the driver’s side, and I swung up into the passenger seat. He turned over the engine and looked to me. “What kind of trouble are we looking for next?”

“The kind that I suspect is hanging out in Mrs. Klueger’s basement.”


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bonus chapter, because it's shorter than my usual and it didn't go to plan. At all. I blame Ranger - he got a little distracted.

“It’s all you, Babe.” Ranger nodded to me. “I’ve got your six.”

I took a breath, steeled myself, and knocked hard on the side door of Mrs. Klueger’s house that led straight to the basement. “Bond enforcement! Open up!”

We heard a crash, some muffled cursing, and then the rhythmic pounding of feet hitting the stairs. But the sound was too distant for those feet to be coming up these stairs. 

“I’ve got the front door,” Ranger called to me, already several paces away and on the move.

Not wanting to be cut out of the action, I tried the doorknob in front of me and found that it twisted without resistance. I swung the door open, stepped through the threshold, and then I saw red. Literally.

There was a splash - two consecutive splashes, actually - and then I was wet and cold and dripping with red. Oh god. Is that… it couldn’t be… A soft whine escaped the back of my throat at the horror of being thoroughly coated in what my first instinct was telling me was blood. Luckily there were only a couple of soul-wrenching seconds before logic told me that blood wasn’t so thick and uniform and… shiny?

I trailed a finger through the red coating over my arm and held it up to my face in odd fascination. I touched my fingertips together and felt the tackiness of it. It was paint. Why was I doused in red paint?

“Stephanie?” Ranger called out to me. “I’ve got Klueger. Come on out.”

I met him in the side yard, and Ranger did a double take.

“It’s paint,” I told him. Then I pointed a stern finger. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

Roger Klueger was shackled at his wrists and ankles, sitting on the ground. “Oh, shit. You tripped the booby trap.”

Ranger manhandled Roger into the back seat of the SUV while he wailed about my new color being an accident. In the meantime, I dug around in the cargo area for something I could use to sluice some of the excess paint off of me. Then I spread a space blanket over the passenger seat and climbed in next to Ranger. He knew how to read the room, and he didn’t make any comments as he set off in the direction of the police station. Roger clearly wasn’t as intelligent.

“I’m real sorry about the paint,” he told me. “It wasn’t meant for you. Hell, I don’t even know you. I didn’t know who was gonna come through that door, but I needed to be ready in case it was the scary dude with the scar.”

I remained silent, not ready to discuss the matter. Roger pressed on.

“What was I supposed to do?” he asked. It had better be rhetorical. “He threatened me to gut me! I needed some sort of warning system, and I figured the booby trap would at least slow him down, right? What do you think, could you still run after me, all covered in paint like that?”

Steam was practically coming out my ears, but Ranger saved me from having to respond. Or maybe he saved Roger from my response. It was unclear.

“Who threatened to gut you?” he asked quietly, his eyes still on the road.

“The scary dude with the scar,” Roger said. “I don’t know his name, he never told me. We only met once, when he hired me. It was dark, so I didn’t even get a real good look at him.”

“Hired you for what?” Ranger asked.

“Uh,” Roger stammered. “I mean…”

“Hired you for what?” Ranger repeated. He stressed the enunciation of each word. He cut his eyes to the rear view mirror and caught Roger’s gaze. Held it. I flipped down my visor and used the mirror to take in the show. Roger was going paler by the second, and I was afraid he was going to pass out.

“Robbery,” Roger finally spat out. “Robbery is my specialty. They wanted the truck held up. I was supposed to just hold it there, and then some guys were supposed to come and take their share, but the stupid cop got there before they did.”

“I take it your employer wasn’t happy that the hijack didn’t go according to plan.”

“As soon as I got home from the slammer, there was a note waiting for me inside my house, saying that I fucked up and so they were going to fuck me up. The note was stuck to my kitchen table with a big fucking knife, and they said I could keep it because they had others, and they were going to use the knives to gut me like a fish.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?” I asked.

“Why would I do that?” He looked truly confused.

“Maybe it would help for them to know that there was someone running around with a set of knives, ready to gut people?”

He blinked. “Huh. It didn’t occur to me.”

I rolled my eyes. I supposed it shouldn’t be surprising that Roger didn’t associate the police with protection, being that he was a career criminal. When Ranger pulled up and parked near the back door of the cop shop, I got out of the car and yanked Roger out of the backseat.

“Ow! Shit!” He pressed his hand to the back of his head, which had just gotten bounced off the roof of Ranger’s car.

“Oops,” I intoned. “Sorry.”

News flash - I wasn’t sorry. Not one bit.

I led him by his elbow toward the back door of the station. My pace was unforgiving, and he had to scramble to keep up with his little minced steps that the ankle shackles afforded him.

I managed to keep a lid on my frustration and hold my head high while I waited at the station for Roger to be processed. I studiously ignored the side-eye coming at me from all directions, and when I finally snatched my body receipt from Robin’s hand, I marched myself out of the cop shop with every last bit of dignity I could muster. Which, granted, wasn’t all that much dignity, given the drips and splatters and footprints I was leaving in my wake.

When I was done, I gingerly climbed back into the car and settled on top of my space blanket, then looked over at Ranger. “Your place, or mine?”

Even though he wore his normal, neutral expression, I could sense some exasperation seeping out of him. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you can wait until we get back to Newark?”

I didn’t know what my face was doing, but whatever it was, Ranger changed his tune after one look at me.

“Right. Okay. I’m not excited about us making an appearance at either your apartment or Rangeman right now. How would you feel about going back to the motel to shower?”

“What about clothes?”

“I can have one of my men pick some up for you.”

“Can they get them from my apartment?” I asked. “I need something to wear to the barbecue tonight, too. I’d rather not show up in all black, and that’s all I ever get when your men go shopping for me.”

“That should be fine. I’ll send the guys who are still running around with your tracker, and they’ll make sure it seems like you’re waiting in the car. Maybe it’ll help us keep up the charade a little longer.”

Ranger offered to drive to a nicer hotel, but I directed him back to the Cheshire Motel. It was closest, and I could feel the paint starting to dry. Roger had told us that it was at least water soluble, so I had that going for me, but it still wasn’t the most comfortable feeling for it to be drying against my skin and in my hair. 

Another guy had taken Derek’s place at the front desk, and he eyed me dubiously while he slid a key card to Ranger. We trekked down to room 17 and I headed straight for the shower. Ranger had texted instructions to his men for their clothing acquisition mission, so all I had to focus on was returning my complexion to its normal color. 

About forty-five minutes, three tiny shampoo bottles, and an entire bar of soap later, I was practically a new woman. The hot water had run out and I had goosebumps all over, so I took the time to blast my scalp with some hot air from the blowdryer. I really hoped that we were going to have time to stop back at the Newark house before meeting up with Ranger’s family, because I was going to need some serious hair and makeup rescue. 

My hair was mostly dried and overly fluffy when I emerged from the bathroom with my towel wrapped around me. Ranger was sitting with his back against the headboard of the double bed, legs stretched out in front of him. He looked up from his phone at my entrance and gave me a once-over.

“Does my skin tone look more pink than normal?” I asked.

“Come over here and I’ll have a closer look.” He patted the bed beside him.

“Nevermind.” I unzipped the duffel bag that sat at the foot of the bed and pulled out my uniform of jeans and stretchy t-shirt. Then I paused and looked back at Ranger. “Your guys aren’t very good at following instructions.”

“I don’t hire people who aren’t good at following instructions.” 

“I asked for them to pack my red dress.” I reached into the bag and pulled out the offending articles of clothing, which included a pair of dressier skinny jeans and a sleeveless red blouse with ruffles down the front. “You can’t tell me that they don’t know what a dress is.”

“I altered your instructions,” he confessed. He nodded toward the blouse. “I at least stuck with your requested color palette.”

“Why can’t I wear the red dress?” I asked, confused. I’d always thought I looked pretty good in the red dress, and I figured I’d need the extra boost of confidence to face Ranger’s family. “I thought you liked it.”

He reached out to grab my fingers and used his grip to reel me in until I was standing right beside him. “I love the red dress.”

“Then why did you alter my packing instructions?”

He brought his other hand to my hip, gave a quick but gentle tug, and before I knew it, I was straddling him on the bed. My knees were almost touching the headboard, my thighs were pressed to his, and I could feel the metal of his zipper against my bare… down there. I’d given up my grip on my towel and the knot at my chest was in danger of giving way with each breath I took - especially since my breathing was a bit more labored than it had been a moment ago. 

One of Ranger’s hands was resting on my bare thigh, and the other was toying with the edge of the towel where it hung over my navel. “I can’t see you in the red dress without thinking about getting my hands inside it. And my mouth on what’s underneath it.”

As if to emphasize his words, his hands were on the move - one sliding up my thigh, under the hem of the towel, and the other slipping beneath the open edge in search of more bare skin. His lips skimmed the side of my jaw, then down my neck, and became more firm and purposeful when he began tracing a path across my chest, along the edge of the towel. 

“Oh,” I said stupidly. My energy was focused on calming my breathing. I was positive that he could feel my heart beating rapidly under his mouth.

His chuckle seemed to confirm that, and he pulled back to look me in the eyes. “Yeah. _Oh_.”

Both of my hands were gripping his shirt, and I relaxed my fists, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I didn’t know that was a problem for you.”

“Under normal circumstances, it’s no problem, Babe,” he said. He had withdrawn one hand but the other was still under the hem of my towel, his fingertips tracing light patterns on my inner thigh, just this side of point-of-no-return. “But around my family, yes, that’s a problem.”

“I can see how that could be…” I sucked in air while I scrambled for a word, any word, other than hard. But that’s what my mind kept coming back to, because his metal zipper was pressing against me more insistently. And then his lips were on me again, and I squeaked. “…inconvenient.” 

His lips curved in a smile as they traced across my collarbone, up my neck. He placed featherlight kisses on my ear, across my jaw, and then his mouth was millimeters from mine. I licked my lips, leaned forward, and… 

I yelped. And squirmed. What the heck?!

Ranger pulled back and expelled a breath. “Yeah. Inconvenient.”

He shifted effortlessly underneath me, as if my weight were nothing, and fished his vibrating cell phone out of his front pocket. That explained the weird - startling, but not entirely unwelcome - sensation. 

Ranger answered the phone in a tone that made me feel sorry for whoever was on the other end. “Report.”

Probably I was saved by the bell. Probably it wasn’t the best idea to fetter away the rest of the afternoon in bed with Ranger while I still had $1500 worth of skips in the wind and my bank account was still $900 short of my rent payment. Those were the things I told myself while I carefully climbed off his lap. But those thoughts weren’t quite enough to quell the tiny bit of disappointment that churned low in my belly. Ranger’s hands firmly on my hips while he helped me up weren’t helping the matter either, but it seemed that he was fully back in business mode anyway, listening intently to the other end of his phone call.

When I emerged from the bathroom dressed in my fresh new, paint-free outfit, Ranger was just finishing strapping on his utility belt. “What’s up?”

“Manny and Vince had a Gabriella sighting.”

A sizzle of adrenaline made me stand up straighter. “Do they have her?”

“Not yet. They’re still trying to tail her, but it seems like she’s working hard to lose them. It’s a delicate game, since Manny says they’re also being tailed by a couple of Reyes. They’re trying to keep following at a distance.”

“What do we do?”

“Tank is going to be here any minute to trade shifts with me. I want to get out there. He’ll stick with you for the afternoon and help you with your skips.”

“I want to go with you,” I said. “Gabriella is one of my skips, after all. I have just as much stake in finding her as you do, if not more.”

“No.”

I came to a stop right in front of him and tilted my chin up to look him in the eye. “That’s it? Just no?”

“That’s it,” he confirmed. “What’s the number one rule?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Steph.”

“Stay safe,” I mumbled. 

“Tank’s here,” he said. I’d long ago stopped questioning how he’d come across his apparent supersonic hearing. Or, who knows, maybe it was ESP. “Be gentle on him.”

My lips twitched right before Ranger leaned down and planted a quick kiss on me. “No promises.”


	12. Chapter 11

The body receipt for Roger Klueger was burning a hole in my pocket, but Tank was adamant that I couldn't go to the bonds office and risk being spotted. Apparently Rangeman had patrols in the area and they could confirm that _Los Reyes_ were doing regular drive-bys. So instead, I called up Lula and arranged to meet her at a convenience store a couple miles away. Tank had barely pulled into a parking spot when the back door was wrenched open and Lula swung herself up into the backseat.

"I love this clandestine shit," she said, excitement sparking in her eyes. Then she cocked her head at Tank. I may have failed to mention him to her. "What's Stud Muffin doing here?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Tank's face flush a bit, but he remained stoic. "He's our bodyguard for the afternoon."

"What happened to Batman?"

"He had to cover a shift," I fibbed. I hadn't fully filled Lula in on all the craziness with the Gabriella situation. I didn't want to pull her any further into this than she needed to be, for her own protection.

"Hunh. I guess if it can't be Batman, then there's no one else I'd rather be guarding my body."

The corners of Tank's mouth lifted up.

Carefully, so I didn't pull my stitches, I lifted my whole body so I could face Lula in the backseat. "Were you able to get my check?"

"Of course. You better know I'd come through for you." She pulled a folded check from her cleavage and handed it over. "All $550. You have any trouble with that armed robbery fella?"

"Nope," I lied. In exchange for the check, I handed Lula the body receipt, which she stuffed away for safekeeping, giving me a glimpse of her leopard-print bra in the process. By the way Tank's eyes were glued to the rearview mirror, I'd say the glimpse didn't escape him, either. The wink from Lula also implied that the glimpse was not-so-accidental.

"You got time to grab some lunch?" Lula asked me.

"I was hoping you'd be up for it," I said. "How does Cluck-in-a-Bucket sound?"

"Do you even gotta ask?"

I turned to Tank. "Let's go to the one on Hamilton and Lueckel."

"The one at Chambers is closer," he said.

"Mmm," Lula hummed. "Gotta appreciate a man who's got a good radar for fried chicken."

It wasn't that I didn't enjoy the googley eyes they were now making at each other in the rearview mirror, but I was a woman on a mission and needed to keep us focused. "Yeah, but Vincent Guzman threw a cherry bomb through the drive-thru window at the one on Hamilton and Lueckel."

Roger Klueger was in the bag. Gabriella was still in the wind. I had a plan to bring in Kate Fitz tomorrow, with or without her dirtbag husband, and I also had my finger on Lenny Bennett, who I planned to pick up at Dougie's flash sale on Saturday. That just left one more skip - Vincent Guzman. Assault with a deadly weapon, aka, a cherry bomb.

By the time we parked at Cluck-in-a-Bucket twenty minutes later, we were at the tail end of rush hour. The lot was full, and Lula jumped out of the way of a blue Hyundai that zipped into the free spot where she'd been standing. We all made our way inside and got in line for the register.

The line was longer than usual since the drive-thru was currently closed. As we got closer to the counter, I stood on my tiptoes to see past the burly guy in front of me, beyond the cashiers, and toward the back of the building. The area that used to be the drive-thru was cordoned off with hazard tape. The walls were black and sooty, the window was boarded up, and the soda dispenser was charred. When we made it to the front of the line, we were gestured to one of the registers by a young girl with greasy blond hair.

"If you want soda, we've only got bottles," she told us. "What can I get you?"

"What happened to the drive-thru?" I asked.

"It got blown up." She shrugged. "It happens, I guess."

"She got a point," Lula said. "It happened to you when you used to work here."

Jeez, I'd forgotten about that. It _had_ happened before. I wished I were the type of person who didn't forget bombings that had occurred in my vicinity.

"Were you here when the bomb went off?" I asked.

"Nope. It was the morning shift. I don't ever work mornings. Steve does sometimes." She pointed to a guy at the register next to her who looked to be around my age. His nametag said 'Ass. Manager'.

I started edging my way toward Steve, but was stopped by the woman who stood in front of Steve's register. "I _know_ you aren't about to try cutting in line. That's a real unhealthy thing to do during lunch rush."

"We all have places to be, lady," said the next man in line. "But we all have to wait our turn."

"I'm not cutting," I promised. "I just need to talk to Steve real quick."

"You have to order something," Steve said. "And if you want to order something, you'll have to wait in line."

Lula placed an order with the blond girl while I turned to get back in line for Steve's register. Tank made a move to follow me, but Lula grabbed him by his arm. "I was hoping we could have lunch together, Big Guy."

"I have to guard Stephanie," he said.

Lula's bottom lip jutted out, a hand went to her hip, and she leaned forward, posing to her best advantage. "You sayin' you're gonna make me eat lunch all by myself?"

Tank's gaze darted back and forth between the two of us, and he started to look a little panicked.

"You can keep an eye on me from the table," I told him. "I'm going to be in line for awhile. I'm not going anywhere."

With that matter settled, Lula shoved a tray of food into Tank's hands and tugged him over toward a booth. True to my word, I waited impatiently while the line in front of Steve's register moved glacially.

When I got back to the front of the line, he looked at me blankly. "Welcome to Cluck-in-a-Bucket. Can I interest you in our limited-time four-for-two Double McClucky meal deal?"

"Hi. Remember me? Were you working the morning of the bomb? I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions," I said.

"Hey. No. Yeah. You have to order something."

I blew out a breath. "Yeah, you were working that day? Do you know the man who threw the bomb?"

"Yeah, it was Vince. Everyone knows Vince. What would you like to order?"

"I'd like a four-piece Clucky Cup," I said. "So does Vince come here often?"

"Every morning on his way in to work. He likes the Clucky Breakfast Biscuit and extra-crispy hashbrowns. Can I get you anything else?"

"Do you know why Vince threw the bomb?"

"Is the Clucky Cup all you want? If that's all you want, then you need to step aside so I can help the next customer in line."

I glanced behind me. The rush had died down and there was only one more woman waiting. "I'll take a small coleslaw. When's the last time you saw Vince?"

"He was here this morning, just like always."

"He still comes here, even after he blew up the drive-thru?"

"Every morning, like clockwork. Vince really loves that Breakfast Biscuit. We just know now that we can't forget to give him the honey butter for it. What else can I get you?"

"What time does Vince come by for his biscuit?"

Steve stared at me blankly.

"I'll take a Coke," I said. "Now, what time does Vince come by for his biscuit?"

"Every weekday at 9 AM." He slid my soda across the counter. "We only have bottles."

Steve drove a hard bargain. I had to fork over my last $15 for the food I'd purchased in exchange for information. But at least I knew that when I came back tomorrow morning, I'd make a cool $500 on Vincent's capture. That was a pretty decent return on investment.

Lula was already done with her bucket of chicken and halfway through a large tub of coleslaw by the time I joined her at a table. Tank noticeably relaxed once I was back within body-blocking range, and he downed half his bottle of lemonade. The three of us chatted while I ate my lunch, and Lula stole one of my Clucky tenders in between flirting with Tank.

When I was finished, we made our way back out to the parking lot and I made an excuse about needing to check a couple of voicemails. Tank kept an eye on me while I paced across the lot, but it gave the two of them an opportunity to spend a few more minutes alone. I didn't really have any voicemails, but I did take a moment to pull up my online banking app. Taking into account the check I now had in my pocket, plus the ones I planned to earn tomorrow when I brought in Kate Fitz and Vincent Guzman, I was hoping I had cobbled together enough to pay my rent and my upcoming electric bill.

To my credit, I was in the throes of some serious mathematics, which is probably why I was surprised at the sound of a car door slamming behind me. I jumped and fumbled my phone, which clattered to the pavement. I hadn't heard another vehicle pulling into the parking lot. I'd violated the first commandment of the number one rule - I hadn't maintained awareness of my surroundings.

My hand had automatically dipped into my bag to grasp my defense spray, and I had a split second to feel proud of myself for that instinctual reaction. I saw Lula turn her attention away from Tank, and her gaze focused over my shoulder, eyes widened. Footsteps were approaching from behind me, and my already-stuttering heart started to pound harder.

Without another moment to waste, I hauled the defense spray out of my bag, my finger already on the trigger. I threw my other arm over my face to protect myself as I whirled around, right as I heard Tank call out a warning.

"Stephanie!"

"Steph!"

Wait… was that a warning in stereo?

My blood was pumping with adrenaline, but my hand wasn't shaking. My aim was true. I let loose a long spray, only letting my finger off the trigger when the stream from the small can started to slow.

I took two big steps back as I lowered my weaponized hand first, and then I backed up a couple more steps for good measure before I removed my arm from my face. As the haze of pepper spray started to clear, I got my first good look at my attacker.

"Ohmigod," I squeaked.

While the blood rushing through my head started to calm and I could hear again, the first sound to greet my ears was that of Tank laughing his ass off. The second was that of Ranger gagging on the face-full of pepper spray I'd just doused him with.

"Fuck," Ranger croaked. He was bent over, hands braced on his knees.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod." I rushed over, but Ranger held out a hand to stop me in my tracks.

"Stay back," he managed. "Let the cloud dissipate."

"I'm so sorry! Ohmigod, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was you!"

"Damn, girl," Lula said. "Remind me never to sneak up on you again."

Tank was trying to get himself under control, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh, shit. Ranger, you okay?"

Tank's tears were nothing compared to Ranger's. His eyes were bloodshot and watering like a faucet. He was still bent over, but he managed to nod. "Fine."

The cloud of poison seemed to be gone, so I made my way to Ranger's side, waving my hands in front of my face just in case. Then I placed my hand on his back. "Are you? Are you really okay? I'm so sorry!"

He straightened up and clasped his hands on top of his head, blinking his eyes like crazy while more tears spilled out. "Proud of you, Babe. You got the drop on me."

"I wasn't paying attention," I admitted. "And then I just heard you coming up behind me, and I panicked."

"You didn't panic. You remembered your resources, and didn't hesitate to use them."

The fact that he was standing there and praising me while his eyes looked like an over-dramatized Visine commercial only made me feel worse. "What can I do? How can I help you?"

Tank had finally managed to pull himself together, and he ambled over. "Just checked in the SUV, and there are no decon wipes in the med kit."

"Wipes?" I asked.

"Specially designed to cut through the capsaicin in the defense spray," Tank said. "The other option is flushing the eyes with baby shampoo."

"We're close to my parents' house! They have baby shampoo for Val's kids!" I wrapped my hand around Ranger's wrist and started to pull him toward the SUV, but he didn't budge.

"It's not safe there," he said. "I'll be fine. Let's just get inside somewhere, and Tank can watch our backs while this wears off."

His tough-guy statement was diminished by the grimace of pain on his face. I turned to Tank. "How long does that take?"

"Let me see the can." He held out his hand, and I handed it over carefully. He read it, and I saw him suppress another laugh as he shook his head. "That's heavy-duty shit. The worst effects could last anywhere from an hour to three. And the stinging will stick around a full day."

"No way." I shook my head. "We're getting this taken care of."

"Gabriella?" Tank asked.

I looked to Ranger expectantly. I was surprised and a little embarrassed that I hadn't remembered to ask about her myself, but in all fairness, the pepper spray situation seemed a little more urgent at that moment.

Ranger shook his head. "She lost us. She's still in the wind."

Ranger allowed Tank to place a call to the men who were assigned guard duty at my parents' house, and they confirmed that _Los Reyes_ were still casing the Burg, and sometimes even a couple guys in _Par de Balos_ colors. That ruled out that idea. The compromise that we landed on was stopping by a drug store, where Lula ran in to buy baby shampoo. Then the four of us were back at the Cheshire Motel once again.

Tank walked us into the new room we'd been assigned, cleared it, and then turned to Ranger. "You good?"

"We're good," Ranger replied, even though he still had tears streaming down his face and was nearly blind.

Tank had offered to drive Lula back to her car where we'd picked her up earlier. I locked the door behind him and then we were alone.

"Come on, tough guy." I led Ranger into the bathroom and stripped him out of his t-shirt. At first I thought I would help him flush his eyes in the sink, but I soon realized that the tiny bathroom wasn't going to allow for that. There wasn't space for Ranger to get his head under the faucet, much less for me to squeeze in to help.

Instead, I turned the shower on and let the water warm up for a minute. Ranger stood there under the obnoxious fluorescent lights, shirtless and with his hands laced on top of his head, trying not to touch his face. Despite the circumstances, I couldn't help but let my gaze wander. May as well take advantage of his blindness to covertly ogle his body.

"I may not be able to see you, but I can still feel that," he said, proving once again that he has super powers of observation. Unlike me.

"I'm really sorry about this," I said again.

"Don't worry about it. I've had worse."

I grimaced, knowing that was true. But still. This time, I was the one who had inflicted his pain. That really didn't sit well with me. "Come here."

He stepped forward and I managed to maneuver us both within the small confines so that he could step back to the shower. Standing on my tiptoes, I placed my hands on either side of his head and gently tipped it back into the spray.

"Ah, fuck," he groaned.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "The water just makes it worse for a second. The capsaicin is oil-based. Where's that shampoo?"

I snatched the baby shampoo from the vanity counter and poured a generous amount into my hand, then lathered it up. Reaching back up, I gently massaged the soap over his face, focusing especially around his eyebrows and eyelashes. "Open your eyes now, let the suds rinse through."

He followed instructions, blinking repeatedly, helping the soap cut through the poison.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yeah. Getting there. Can you hand me that shampoo? I need to wash my hair, make sure it's all out."

"I've got it." I dumped more shampoo into my hands, lathered, and then brought my hands back up.

My fingers slid through his hair, working the suds in, and I massaged his scalp with my fingertips. There would be no trace of capsi-whatever left by the time we were through. Not on my watch. I tilted his head back under the spray, running my fingers through the strands to rise away the suds. Ranger groaned again.

"Does it still hurt?" I asked, pulling away.

Ranger's hand came around my waist, keeping me close, while he opened his eyes. "No. Feels good."

That's when I realized that the entire front of my body was plastered against Ranger's. His knee was between mine and I was basically straddling his thigh, leaning against him for balance while I reached up to his hair.

I cleared my throat and stepped back. He let his hand fall from my waist, letting me go. "Your eyes don't look red anymore."

"It doesn't feel like they're on fire anymore, either." He leaned around me to snag a towel from the rack, and ran it over his face. "Thanks for your help."

"Least I could do." I averted my gaze while Ranger dried his neck and chest. I looked down at myself and noticed that the front of my shirt was damp from the water that had dripped down his body. I grabbed my own towel, but left the tiny bathroom before drying myself off. It was getting a little too warm in there.

Not once, not twice, but _three_ times today that I'd been at this damn motel with Ranger. There was only so much temptation a girl could take, and it was best that I remove myself from it. Had I thought about tossing his towel aside and offering to lick the droplets of water off his abs? Sure. Who wouldn't? But I knew that wasn't the safest thing for me to do right then, and I was sincerely trying to take my safety a little more seriously.

Physically, of course, Ranger would take good care of me. Boy, would he ever - I knew that from experience. But I also knew that I got a little more emotionally entangled after every orgasm he'd ever given me, and lately I'd started to fear that I was coming up quickly on the Point of No Return.

I'd thought a lot over the past couple of days about what Morelli had said to me that evening in my apartment. I'd had to face the music and let Morelli go because I knew we'd never be on the same page. Unfortunately, I also had to face the fact that the same was true of me and Ranger.

I didn't blame him. He'd warned me a dozen times that he wasn't cut out for relationships. Granted, he hadn't given me that speech in awhile, but I remembered the sentiment. His love was the kind that didn't come with a ring. And while I wasn't necessarily at a place in my life where I needed a ring, I did think that the relationship piece sounded nice. Logically, I knew that was something that Ranger wasn't able to offer. But during intimate moments like the one we'd just had in the bathroom, the logical side of my brain wasn't always the one in charge.

I loved Ranger. And he loved me back. But I knew that our love could never progress past what it was today - friendship and physical attraction. Ranger couldn't make any promises beyond that, and my promise to myself was that I wouldn't let myself forget it. Remembering was a little more difficult when we were skin to skin or when his tongue was in my mouth, so I was going to try to make things easier on both of us by limiting those moments as much as possible.

"You okay?"

Ranger's voice interrupted my train of thought, and I looked up to see him leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. He'd put his shirt back on, thank goodness.

"You were looking a little lost, there," he continued.

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Anything I should know about?"

"Just about how your Staying Safe 101 lecture earlier today really came back to bite you in the butt," I lied. Although, now that I thought about it, that was something else that was eating at me. Would I _never_ be able to get this right?

"I already told you, I'm proud of how you handled yourself." He walked over to take a seat on the bed beside me.

I sighed. "First, I get caught in a freaking booby trap made by a guy who we both know has the IQ of a dodo bird. Then, I forget to pay attention to my surroundings - I swear, it wasn't for more than like two minutes - and I nearly take out Batman, completely on accident."

"It takes a lot more than that to take me out," he corrected.

"Look at us. Twice in one day, we've had to come to this rat trap motel for emergency clean-up. And both times were my fault."

"Shit happens to everyone."

"To who?" I demanded. I was only about 20% hysterical, but quickly working my way up. "Who else does this happen to?"

Ranger paused for a moment, clearly thinking. "Remember the time one of your FTAs kicked Tank in the nuts and took him down? The little old lady who ran the porn shop?"

I bit my lip because I felt a smile coming on, but I didn't feel like smiling. I was pouting, dammit. When a girl has a life like mine, she deserves to pout every once in awhile. It's expected.

"There was also the time that two of my men lost your FTA because he'd convinced them he was sick and they stopped to let him out of the car."

That one didn't make me smile, but he did have a point. I knew that first-hand, because the same thing had happened to me with a different guy. "It's an understandable mistake."

"It is. Which is why they weren't reprimanded." He reached over and laid a reassuring hand on my thigh. "Everyone is allowed to make a mistake now and then."

"Even you?"

He was quiet.

"What?" I demanded. "Everyone else gets to make mistakes, but not you?"

"I'm thinking."

I rolled my eyes, but waited patiently. As patiently as I was capable of.

"There was a capture mission," Ranger started. "My team had to hunker down in a bog of mud and wait until our target made an appearance. My boots ended up getting stuck in the mud, and I had to lead the op in my socks."

I pursed my lips. "That's a pretty good one, I guess. I bet you still got your man, though, right?"

"Yes."

"See?"

He looked at me. "You always get your man, too."

"I wish that I didn't have to always end up doing it messier than most." I wasn't feeling totally ready to be done pouting. "Was that it? That was your _one_ embarrassing mishap?"

He was quiet for so long that I didn't think he was going to say anything more. Then he expelled a short breath. "I've made plenty of mistakes in my life, trust me. It's a scary-long list. But usually when I make a mistake, the consequences are a lot steeper than needing to take a shower. People have died over mistakes that I've made. I don't want to burden you with those kinds of mistakes."

That was sobering. I chanced a glance over at him, and found him staring at a spot on the carpet in front of us, looking like he was the burdened one. I didn't want that for him, either. I put my hand on top of his. "Mistakes make us human."

He gave up his staring contest with the carpet to meet my gaze. "I'll keep reminding you of that, if you'll do the same for me."

"Deal." I squeezed his hand. I had to admit, sometimes I did enjoy the reminder that he was as human as the rest of us. "Now tell me about Gabriella."

I saw his jaw tighten. "She lost us. I can say this about her, she's good at staying hidden. At this point, I'm still counting that as a good thing."

"At least we know now that she's still in town," I said. "And for that matter, that she's still alive."

He flipped his hand under mine and tangled our fingers together. "We'll find her again."

"Any other news?"

"Guys from both _Los Reyes_ and _Par de Balos_ are still looking for you. Both have been doing regular drive-bys of the bonds office and your apartment. The team that has your GPS tracker from _Los Reyes_ are still being followed."

"So I guess that means we're still staying in Newark."

"Yeah, and speaking of, we should get going. Unless you've changed your mind about wanting to go to this thing tonight?"

That brought a smile to my face. "No way. After the day we've had, we deserve a nice, relaxing family barbecue."

"If you're aiming for relaxing, then I've got a better idea."

"Not a chance. I'm ready to see how the Manosos party."


	13. Chapter 12

"Are you sure about this?" I called out. Then I leaned in close to the bathroom mirror to give my lashes one more swipe of mascara.

"Yes," Ranger replied. Ever the master of patience and all things Zen, his tone didn't relay the fact that he'd answered that same question a dozen times over the past half hour. "You'd meet them eventually anyway."

"I would?"

Quiet for a beat. "Anita wouldn't have kept quiet about meeting you, and the rest of them would've clamored to get the chance. You've been the primary topic of conversation today in the family group text. They're excited to meet you."

That was flattering, I supposed. Also, surprising - who would've guessed that Ranger had a family group text?

One last look in he mirror, then I tucked the mascara away into my makeup bag. I was as ready as I was going to get. I stepped out of the bathroom to meet Ranger, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting. He had assured me that the thing with his family tonight was very casual. He was still in his usual black t-shirt and cargoes. His only concession to the occasion was the loss of his gun belt, though I was sure he still had his Glock on him somewhere.

I watched his gaze sweep over me, and I went hands to hips. "What do you think? Do I pass muster?"

"With flying colors," he assured me.

"Can you give me the rundown again?"

"The party is at my parents' house. It'll just be immediate family, so you don't have to worry about being bombarded by cousins. My brother Cisco will be there with his wife, Diana. They have two kids. Anita and her husband, and their kids. My sister Celia will be there, but her husband may or not make it, because -"

"He's a firefighter," I finished. "Wesley."

"There's not going to be a quiz."

"I know." On our drive back to Newark, I'd gotten the lowdown from Ranger. I wanted to be prepared for what I was walking into. To my surprise, he'd answered all of my questions with no pushback.

There was another problem I hadn't thought of until that moment, and I froze while I was slipping on my shoes. "Wait. Will we speak English? Will I be able to understand anyone?"

Ranger nodded patiently. "Yes, we'll speak English."

"Is that just for me? I don't want to put you out or make anyone uncomfortable."

"It's not just for you. We grew up speaking both English and Spanish, since our parents wanted to make sure we were fully bilingual. Now, it makes sense since the family has grown. Greg speaks a little Spanish but isn't fluent, and Karen doesn't speak it much at all," he said, referring to two more of his sisters' spouses. "The kids all know a lot of Spanish, but English is their first language."

Ranger handed me my bag, but I just grabbed the essentials and slid them into my pockets. "I won't need the stun gun or anything, right?"

"My sisters can be pushy, but not that pushy."

"Then I'm ready." I took a bracing breath. "Are you sure about this?"

"Babe."

"Right. Okay, let's go."

I made Ranger swing by a local liquor store first so I could pick up a gift for his brother. I figured, when in doubt, liquor does the trick. Under Ranger's advisement, I selected a bottle of Glenfiddich 12 Year Single Malt, along with a gift bag. It was okay that I was set back another $50, since this was a special occasion. And because I'd be turning in two more FTAs tomorrow. I tore the price tags off both my purchases, and I was good to go. Until we pulled up to the curb in front of the house, when I needed another minute.

The house was about 15 minutes away from where we'd been staying. The neighborhood was upper-middle-class. The house was two stories with an attached garage. The driveway was already overflowing with cars.

I realized I was twisting the handles of the gift bag in my lap, and I worked at untangling them while I peered at the house. "Are we late?"

"No."

"Then why are we the last ones here?" I challenged.

"I doubt we're the last ones. Are you ready?"

"Will I get to see your childhood bedroom?"

"I lived in this house for less than a year. We grew up in a neighborhood on the other side of town, and didn't move here until I was in middle school."

That must have been the year before Ranger moved to Miami to live with his grandmother. "But you did have a bedroom in this house?"

"Cisco and I shared a room."

"How'd that go?"

"Why don't we head in so you can meet him, and then I'm sure you'll be able to answer that for yourself."

Officially called out on my stalling, I nodded resolutely. We marched up the driveway, but when I started to head in the direction of the front door, Ranger snaked an arm around me and steered me in the opposite direction. "Everyone's out back."

We let ourselves into the backyard via a gate in a wooden fence at the side of the house. Music was playing, and over that, I heard the sounds of people talking and kids laughing. It sounded like a stereotypical party, but not your typical Burg party. In the Plum household, the first sound that greeted guests was the drone of the television. At Morelli family gatherings, I'd always been greeted by boisterous Italian bickering. I didn't hear any bickering at Casa de Manoso.

We rounded the corner of the house and I took a moment to get my bearings. The backyard was large with mature trees that offered privacy from the neighbors. Large dining set with umbrella. Huge sectional furniture. It was clear that outdoor entertaining was a priority. Four kids were kicking a soccer ball around the yard, and adults were congregating around the dining set. No one was seated - this was a family that mingled while they socialized.

A man who I assumed must be Ranger's father looked up from his station manning the grill. He grinned. "Carlos is here!"

A dozen pairs of eyes turned in our direction. There was a pause, and then a frisson of excitement. The group met us halfway, and Ranger was quickly swept up in a sea of hugs and hearty shoulder slaps. The first person who approached me was Anita. "Stephanie! I'm so glad you could both make it."

She pulled me into another hug, and when I was released, I found myself face to face with Ranger - except this Ranger was wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt. I blinked a couple of times before I recovered. "You must be Cisco."

"And you must be Stephanie. It's great to meet you." He smiled, and I was struck again by the similarities between him and his brother. Upon closer inspection, Cisco's eyes were a little lighter, and he wore his hair shorter. His jaw was more rounded, and he had more smile lines at the corners of his eyes. I suppose that was something to be said for Ranger's blank face - it worked better than Botox.

"Happy birthday," I told him. "I hope you don't mind me crashing your party."

"You're not crashing. I'm glad you could make it." And then he, too, pulled me into a hug. "We've been dying to meet you, ever since -"

Cisco cut himself off awkwardly, and when I pulled back from the hug, I found myself next to Ranger. He had his arms crossed and was giving his brother a no-nonsense stare.

"Ever since Anita told us she'd run into you," Cisco finished. Then he smiled at Ranger and gave him one of those back-slapping man-hugs.

When he was finished, Ranger brought his hand to my back and corralled me to the left. "Steph, these are my parents, Marcela and Ricardo. Mamá, Papá, this is Stephanie Plum."

His mom was several inches shorter than me, her dark hair streaked with gray. Her eyes were the same warm chocolate color that Ranger's sometimes turned, in those treasured moments when he wasn't feeling so serious. She reached out to take my hand in both of hers and held my gaze. "Welcome, Stephanie. It's so wonderful to meet you." And then she pulled me into another hug. She held on tight for a couple of moments before we parted.

"Mr. and Mrs. Manoso, it's great to meet you. Thank you for having me. You have a lovely home."

"Please, call us Ricardo and Marcela," Ranger's father told me. "Or Papá and Mamá, if you prefer."

I felt Ranger tense beside me, but then his father chuckled and pulled me into a hug. He released me and excused himself as he moved to tend to the grill. Anita took the opportunity to introduce me to her husband, Greg.

"And who is this?" My voice inexplicably turned into a coo as I gestured at the baby carrier she wore on her chest.

Anita smiled down at the top of the head poking out from the carrier. "This is Lola. You'll have to excuse her from the welcome committee - she'll get in on the hugs when she wakes up."

"I'll hold her to that." I gestured out to the kids in the yard, who'd been joined by Ranger. He was being swarmed by the four of them, who appeared to range in age somewhere between three and ten. "Do any of these other ones belong to you?"

Anita laughed. "The one in the pink t-shirt is Emily and the older boy is Robbie. The other two are Cleo and Ricky, and they're Cisco's and Diana's kids."

"Don't judge me for my child's lack of pants," said a voice from behind me. I turned to see a tall, beautiful woman who looked like she'd just walked off the set of a Wonder Woman movie. "He overheard a conversation between me and his dad about a 'birthday suit' - I'm sure you understand what we were talking about, please don't judge me for that either - and somehow he got the impression that it meant you're supposed to come to a birthday party naked. This was the compromise."

The little boy wearing nothing but Superman underpants was holding his fists up in front of Ranger, apparently in a fighting stance. Ranger was crouched down in front of him, adjusting the boy's form.

"You'll get no judgment from me," I assured her. "You must be Diana?"

She smiled. "And you're the famous Stephanie."

"Uh-oh. How'd I become famous?"

"How could you not be?"

I turned at the sound of another voice, but before I could really see who it'd come from, she had me swept up in another hug.

"You're the only woman who Carlos has ever mentioned in the past decade," she continued. "That makes you instantly famous in this family."

"Cassie," Anita said in a warning tone.

"That's me, by the way," Cassie said to me with the 200-watt smile. "The drop-dead redhead over there chatting up Mamá is Karen."

"Are you feeling overwhelmed yet?" Anita asked dryly.

"I'm hanging in there, but I feel like maybe I need flashcards or something to remember all the names," I joked.

"Not from a big family?" Diana guessed. I shook my head, and she commiserated. "Me neither. Don't worry, you get used to it."

"My family is very… Well. Let's just say that they're not as effusive. This is all great," I said, gesturing around at the party. "But it might take a _lot_ of getting used to. I'm not sure I'll be around long enough for that."

I said it with a smile, not wanting to offend anyone. Anita waved me off. "Of course you will. Now that we've gotten you here, you're here to stay."

I wasn't sure how Ranger would feel about that. But I didn't have much time to consider it further, because Cassie took me by the elbow and steered me over to introduce me to her wife. I also met Celia, who had arrived shortly after us. I had a brief reprieve from being the center of attention while more greetings were doled out.

Then the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I felt Ranger's warmth behind me a moment before he spoke quietly in my ear. "You doing okay?"

"Yes. Your family is great."

"I know."

"Do you get to spend much time with them?"

"I try, when I'm in town."

I looked up to study him, but of course his face told me nothing. "How come you've never really talked about them?"

"You never asked."

Cassie popped up on the other side of Ranger and tugged at his arm like a… well, like a little sister. "You're hogging Stephanie. The rest of us want to talk to her, too."

"She's not a shiny new toy."

"Of course not," Anita chimed in. Cassie shifted to make room for her in the little circle we were forming. "She's a fascinating woman. We have so many questions."

"I'm really not that interesting," I objected. I also felt the need to speak up, since it seemed they may have forgotten I was standing right there.

"Oh, but you are," Cassie insisted, her eyes sparkling. "You have no idea. I hear you're a bounty hunter? How did you get into that? Don't tell me Carlos wrangled you into it."

"Pretty much the opposite," I said. "I think the first time I ever met him, he tried to talk me out of it."

"Little did I know, that was the worst thing I could've done," Ranger said dryly.

"Contrary to your belief, not everyone is going to trip over themselves to do exactly as you tell them," Cassie replied.

Cisco inserted himself into the conversation then, sidling up beside me. "He really needs to hang out more with people who aren't on his payroll."

"Or just people who don't have a stubborn streak a mile wide," Ranger groused.

I turned around to face him with a smile and a sarcastic quip on the tip of my tongue. But before I could say one word in my own defense, Marcela stepped up behind Ranger and gave him a smack upside the head. I watched with wide eyes as she then calmly took her place beside her husband. She smacked Ranger!

"Stephanie is a strong, independent woman," she said calmly. " _Not_ stubborn - there's a difference. Her career choice and her successes have nothing to do with anything Carlos did or did not say to her."

I stared, dumbfounded, at this five-foot-three woman who'd just quietly put her grown children in their place. I supposed that one didn't raise five children, especially one who'd become a man like Ranger, by being meek. "Thank you," I stammered. "Although Ran - Carlos - certainly has helped quite a bit along the way."

Ranger settled a warm hand at the nape of my neck, and I allowed myself a minuscule step back, savoring his warmth and presence.

"So do you like being a bounty hunter?" Greg asked.

"Believe me, I ask myself that question a lot. Especially when my work day ends with me covered in garbage or dripping with paint or stew or God-knows-what-else."

Cassie wrinkled her nose. "That sounds a lot less badass than I'd imagined."

"How often can that happen, though? I'm sure there are plenty of badass moments that outweigh the gross ones," Anita said.

"You'd think so," I said. "But I seem to be a magnet for disaster. And garbage."

"And yet you manage to get the job done," Ranger reminded me. "It's the mistakes that make us human."

Anita cocked an interested eyebrow at Ranger, and then looked back and forth between the two of us, a smile spreading across her face.

"That's very true. I'm proud of you both for remembering that," Marcela said. Her gaze was on Ranger, and the affection there was unmistakable. Then her eyes flickered to the yard. "Cisco, Anita, go corral your children before they completely trample my azaleas."

The group split up, half of them going to re-establish the boundaries of the makeshift soccer field, and the other half gravitating toward the grill, which was emanating a heavenly aroma that made my mouth water. I turned to look up at Ranger. "Can I have a tour?"

"You want to see the house?"

I rolled my eyes at his cluelessness. He had no idea how much I craved more information about him. No doubt he was going to regret bringing me tonight. This peek into his family life was only going to stoke the flames of my curiosity. I spared him the _duh_ that was on the tip of my tongue, and instead managed a polite "Yes, please."

A vociferous tour guide, Ranger was not. But he dutifully led me through the house, pointing out rooms as we passed them. The downstairs consisted of kitchen, dining room, living room, and den slash home office. There was also a powder room. Upstairs there were four bedrooms and three full baths.

"This is the room that Cisco and I shared when I still lived here," he told me, holding open the door to the first bedroom in the hallway at the top of the stairs.

"Was the floral wallpaper your choice or his?" My hopes for using the room to get any additional insight into Ranger were dashed. The room had obviously been repurposed. There was one double bed, an empty chest of drawers, and a bare bones closet.

"This was the first room that freed up, with both of us out of the house, so it became the guest room." He led me down the rest of the hallway. "Celia and Anita shared this one. And Cassie and Liana shared the third."

"Who's the oldest out of all of you?" I asked.

"I am."

That made good sense, now that I'd seen a bit of the dynamic between Ranger and his siblings. "And then?"

"Celia, then Cisco, Anita, Cassie. Liana's the baby of the family. She's only 25."

"Will I meet her tonight?"

"I don't think she's going to make it. She works at a PR firm in Manhattan, and said something about a client emergency."

"You're all fairly close in age, then. Five of you, all less than ten years apart. I can't imagine what that was like, growing up."

"Chaotic, most of the time," he said. "But my mother managed to keep us in line. Mostly."

"Not your father?"

"He helped. But we all knew that Mamá was the one you didn't want to cross."

"Did your mom work when you were all growing up?"

"Off and on." He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. "She's a nurse. When we were really young, my father worked as an electrician during the day and went to school at night. When he got home from classes, he helped put us to bed, and then he studied while my mother worked the graveyard shift at the hospital. She would either be home in time for my father to leave the next morning, or he would drop us off at my Tía's house and she'd take us to school."

"That sounds like a lot of juggling."

He shrugged a shoulder. "They made it work. I'm sure it was hard on them, but as kids, we never noticed. They never let on that they were stressed about work or money. But when my father graduated, he got a job as an electrical engineer at a manufacturing company. Things changed after that, and my mother was able to cut back her hours at the hospital. I still remember, one night when we were eating dinner, I looked up and saw that my mother had added chicken to her plate. She normally only ate the rice and beans. I'd always assumed that she didn't care for meat, but that was the moment I realized that we just hadn't been able to afford enough of it."

When he finished his story, I realized that I'd been practically holding my breath, hoping he'd continue. I wasn't used to Ranger sharing such personal information. Maybe it was because we were here, in his parents' home. Maybe it was just because we were surrounded by his family, so the memories were fresh. Whatever it was, I never wanted it to stop.

"I've experienced a lot of examples of really great mothering, and a lot of not-so-great examples, too," I said. "Your mother seems like one of the really great ones."

"She is."

There was a series of photos lining the hall, and I studied them closely. "Who was the biggest troublemaker?"

"When we were kids, it was Cassie and Liana. Being the youngest, they tended to get away with shit that the rest of us never did."

"And you were an angel," I teased. "The model of perfection, even as a kid."

"I had my moments," he admitted. "But I didn't start causing any real trouble until I was in my early teens."

I turned away from the photos to make a sassy remark, but was interrupted by the sound of the patio door downstairs. For a moment, we dimly heard the cacophony from the backyard before the door slid shut again.

Downstairs, we found Marcela and Greg in the kitchen. The latter had an armful of plates and silverware, and I rushed to open the door for him so he could carry his burden outside.

"Carlos, could you go help your father with the grill? You know how he always burns the vegetables."

"I'm on it," he promised. He turned to me and spoke low in my ear. "You good?"

I waved him off with a smile, then turned to Marcela while Ranger disappeared into the backyard. "What can I do to help?"

"You're so sweet. Could you start chopping up those tomatoes for the salad?" Marcela's hands were busy tearing apart lettuce leaves and tossing them into a large bowl. She gestured with her chin to a few tomatoes sitting on a cutting board next to her.

"You bet." I was no Julia Child, but even I could handle chopping a vegetable. Right? "I was just admiring your photo wall upstairs. I loved the ones at the beach. Where were those taken?"

Marcela smiled. "That's Montauk. We used to vacation there for a week every summer, along with my two sisters and their families. The kids always loved it. They would organize sand castle contests and hundred-meter swim races."

"Sounds like fun." I tried to think of more to say, but my attention was also a bit hung up on not massacring the tomatoes.

"Those vacations will always be some of my favorite memories from when the kids were little," she said fondly. "It was a real treat back then - money was a little tight, what with raising all of them and with Ricardo taking night classes for his degree. But I'm so glad we made that one week every summer a priority."

"I've never been to Montauk, but I've heard it's beautiful. My family vacationed at Point Pleasant a few times when we were young."

"Tell me about your family. Do you have many brothers or sisters?"

"Just one sister. Valerie."

"Are you two close?"

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Then I noticed Marcela's look, and I bit it back. "Sorry. Um, no, we weren't very close back then. I think we're a little closer now, but…"

She shook her head and held up a hand. "You don't have to explain. I understand, believe me. I raised four girls, and I had two sisters of my own."

"You have a wonderful family," I told her sincerely. "Thank you again for having me here. I know you weren't expecting me, at least not until this morning, so thank you for being so welcoming and making room for me."

"Expecting? No. But hoping, yes." She smiled over at me. "You're welcome here any time, Stephanie. We've all been so looking forward to meeting you."

I paused. "You have?"

"Of course. Carlos doesn't talk about you often, but -"

"He talks about me?" I interrupted. Then I pressed my lips together, embarrassed. But… he talks about me?

She gave me another smile. A knowing one. "He's mentioned your name a couple of times over the past few years. But that was enough. And even if he hadn't mentioned you, I could still tell something was different. That he had someone."

My face felt warm. "We're not… I mean, Rang- Carlos and I, we're just…"

She reached over and put her hand on top of mine. "It's okay. I know."

I wanted to ask her what she knew, and whether she could explain it to me. Because I was confused. "Really. We're just friends."

"Okay. I believe you." She said it in a tone that implied the opposite.

I sighed. "We do care about each other. A lot."

She smiled serenely at me as she took the cutting board and dumped the tomatoes into the salad bowl. "I know."

"It's been great to get to meet you all, and get some insight into how Ranger grew up. He doesn't tend to be very talkative."

"Yes, that's true." Marcela looked pensive, and focused her gaze on the salad. "He knows that words have consequences. I'm afraid that he learned that lesson harder than most."

I found myself nearly holding my breath again, waiting for her to go on. Desperate for more. When she didn't, I struggled with how to prompt her without being too forward or seeming too nosy. "For as long as we've been friends, I sometimes wonder if I really know him as well as I think I do."

"You do," Marcela assured me.

"He seems so different from the rest of you."

"You may feel differently if you met _my_ mother. I was raised a little differently than the way I chose to raise my own family. More disciplined, certainly. A lot of that rubbed off on Carlos, I think."

"The _Abuela_ he lived with through high school?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "He told you?"

"Just that he was sent to Miami to live with her after he got into some trouble when he was younger."

" _Sent?_ _"_ Marcela shook her head. "He makes it sound like I shipped him off in a crate."

I laughed. "I'm sure he didn't mean it like that."

"Ultimately, it was the right choice for everyone. He needed to escape for awhile, and I was afraid that if we tried to keep him here, that would only make things worse."

She eyed me, and I got the sense that she was being deliberately cryptic. I didn't know the full story behind the circumstances that drove Ranger to Miami when he was a teen, and it seemed I wouldn't learn it from Marcela.

She continued. "I think he escaped a little _too_ much. He had some rough years. And of course, I wish that he could have been home. But I can't regret any of it, since all of those experiences combined made him the man he is today. And I wouldn't trade that for anything."

"I agree."

Marcela held my gaze, and a barely-there smile played at the corners of her mouth. The expression was so familiar, and I was struck again with marvel that this was Ranger's mother. Before she could say anything else, the back door slid open and we both looked to see Ranger stick his head inside.

"We're about ready out there," he said. I saw his eyes flicker between us. "Everything okay?"

"Of course," Marcela said. She thrust the salad bowl into my hands. " _V_ _ámonos."_

Ranger kept his eyes on me as I walked toward him, and I worried that he could read my every thought on my face. One of the most frustrating things about our relationship was how it often seemed he could read me like a book, whereas his blank face protected him. I may as well be trying to read hieroglyphics.

I set the salad on the table that held the rest of the food, although no one paid it much attention. I couldn't blame them. My mouth was already watering from all the delicious smells, and that was before Ranger started pointing things out to me. I ended up with a plate heaped with _congri, lech_ _ón asado_ , _croquetas_ , and _bocaditos._ Celia was fixing drinks and offered me one, but after taking one look at the very long pour of tequila that went into the pitcher, I politely declined. Probably it wasn't a good idea to test the limits of my alcohol tolerance in the presence of Ranger's family.

We took our seats at the table once we'd all filled our plates. Extra chairs had been pulled in, and it was a cozy fit. I felt like I was halfway in Ranger's lap, and I still kept bumping elbows with Diana on my other side. Still, it didn't feel cramped, just intimate. The kids sat at a miniature picnic table in the yard.

I was happy to take a backseat to the conversation around me, enjoying the playful and easy banter, pitching in when I could. No one was complaining about neighborhood gossip, and no one was muttering under their breath. I glanced around and didn't see anyone gripping their knives with white knuckles. It was different. Comfortable.

The food was amazing. Ranger and Marcela might have been the only ones who touched the salad. The rest of us were too busy with the melt-in-your-mouth roast pork and the various carb-wrapped meats and cheeses and fruits. I had never heard of a _pastelito_ before, but I wasn't sure how I'd made it this far in life without one. And that wasn't even dessert, I was told - of course, being a birthday party, there would be cake.

After dinner, Cassie and Diana were huddled over their iPhones near a stereo system, compiling a party playlist. Ranger and the reset of his siblings, in-laws, and nephews and nieces had all divided into two teams and were engrossed in what appeared to be a fiercely competitive game of soccer. I'd decided to sit it out on the bench, in deference to my injury. Ricardo and I were drafted as 'referees'. I hoped they weren't expecting much of me, since I had no idea of the rules.

"Stephanie?"

I looked back at the sound of my name, and saw Marcela just on the other side of the patio door. I rushed to open it for her, since both her hands were occupied by a decadent-looking cake.

"That looks amazing," I breathed.

"Chocolate fudge filling?" Ricardo asked hopefully. He peered over Marcela's shoulder while she put the cake on the table that had already been cleared of the remnants of dinner.

"Raspberry filling. Cisco's favorite." She caught my eye and winked at me. "Carlos's, too."

"He eats _cake?_ _"_ I gaped at her. That did it. I was officially convinced that the Ranger I knew was actually a different person than Carlos.

Ricardo chuckled. "He'll usually refrain when it's first cut, but if you keep an eye on him after he thinks no one is paying attention, I'm sure he'll have at least a few bites."

Marcela winked at me. "Please tell me you're not one of those girls who doesn't eat dessert."

I grinned. "The opposite. In fact, one of my new life mottos is to eat dessert first. Although I'd have to agree that chocolate fudge would beat out raspberry any day."

Ricardo playfully nudged his wife with his elbow. "See? I knew I liked this woman."

"Just you wait," she told him affectionately. "In a few months it'll be your party, and then you'll get to choose the cake."

" _S_ _í, Mamá,_ " he said with a smile. Then he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Are you another October birthday, like Ranger?" I asked.

"No, mine is in February," he said. At my look of confusion, understanding dawned in his eyes. "She's referring to a retirement party. I tried resisting, but it was futile. I'm pretty sure by this point, she's invited so many people that we'll need to apply for some type of special permit."

"Retirement!" I said meaningfully. "Wow, congratulations."

He waved his hand dismissively. "You can save your congratulations for the party. It's going to take me several months to steel myself for the attention."

"I appreciate you welcoming me into your home tonight, but I don't want to intrude any more than I already have."

"I expect to see you there," he said definitively. "I don't know why Carlos has waited so long to bring you around, but now that he has, I expect to see you a lot more often."

I felt my face flush again. I didn't want a repeat of the awkward part of the conversation with Marcela in the kitchen. "I'm afraid you may have misunderstood. Ra - Carlos and I are just friends."

He studied me for a moment, taking a sip of his beer. "Hmm."

The resemblance between him and Ranger at that moment was uncanny. He acted like he was listening intently to what I was saying, even though I wasn't saying anything. Which, of course, compelled me to keep talking. "We're friends. We're not in a relationship."

He gave me a strange smile. "I've seen the way my son looks at you. The way he's looking at you right now, in fact."

Startled, I swung my gaze over to the other side of the patio where I'd last noticed Ranger. Sure enough, my eyes met his. He was in the middle of a conversation with Greg and Anita, but he was looking at me.

"He's just watching out for me. He can be a little overprotective." I didn't want to get into the whole situation with Gabriella and _Los Reyes_ , so I left it at that.

Surprisingly, Ricardo chuckled. "A little overprotective. Yes, that's probably true. My son is certainly a worrier. But trust me, the way he keeps looking at you isn't out of concern. Plus, there's the fact that you're here tonight."

"I was with Ranger this morning when we ran into Anita," I said by way of explanation.

"That may be true, but you wouldn't be here if you and he both didn't want you to be. The fact that you are, speaks volumes."

"We're… friends," I said again, lamely.

"Carlos hasn't introduced us to a friend like you in a very long time."

I didn't know what to say to that. Luckily, I didn't have to say anything, because Ranger chose that moment to make his way over. "Can I steal Stephanie for a minute?"

"It's about time," Ricardo teased. "She was just complaining to me that you hadn't asked her to dance yet."

"That's not how I remember our conversation," I challenged.

"Stephanie has a selective memory," Ranger explained patiently.

I went hands to hips and stared him down. Fat lot of good it did me. He regarded me steadily, and I watched while the almost-smile blossomed into a full one. I would not melt, dammit. Nope, not me. Fully solid.

Ranger held out a hand, looking like a man who had all the time in the world for me to take it, because he knew that I eventually would. Damn him.

I caved. He took me by the elbow and towed me through the yard, past his siblings. I hadn't noticed when everyone had paired off, but the yard had turned into a dance floor. Even the kids were dancing - surprisingly well, in fact. I had a feeling I was about to make a fool of myself.

"I don't know how to salsa," I protested.

Ranger stopped when we made it to the corner of the yard. I realized he'd staked out a spot where he could keep an eye on the house and all points of entry. "Yes, you do."

"How would you know? You've never seen me dance. I'm telling you, I don't know how."

His hands went to my waist and he pulled me against him, already starting to move to the beat. He dipped his head to speak low in my ear. "Your hips know what to do. Trust me."

I felt heat creeping up my neck, but with Ranger's hips moving against mine, I found that he was right. I fell into the rhythm naturally. He slowly got our feet in on the action, using the pressure of his hands on me to cue me when to move. Before I knew it, we were dancing.

I wanted to talk to him about the conversations I'd had with his parents. About how great his family was, and how much I'd enjoyed meeting them. About how much I loved seeing him here, in a setting that was so different from how I'd always pictured him, and yet where he fit so easily that I found myself questioning whether I really knew him at all.

I had questions, and I wanted to sit him down and pepper him with them. And yet experience told me that I may not get the answers I was looking for. So I resolved to put them out of my mind and just enjoy the moment. The one where we were safe, surrounded by people Ranger loved and trusted. The moment where he was as relaxed as I'd ever seen him. I'd never seen him dance before, and _boy_ , had I been missing out. So for tonight - for this moment - we just danced.

###

The drive back to the house was silent. Which wasn't different from any other drive with Ranger. Sitting in his passenger seat always gave me plenty of time to think. And on this occasion, I had plenty to think about. I'd thought that meeting Ranger's family would provide some answers about the man of mystery, but I found that I was left with more questions.

Ranger parked in the garage and let us both in through the back door. He retrieved two bottles of water from the fridge and handed me one. I took a seat at the kitchen island and picked at the label on my bottle.

"Did you have fun tonight?" I asked.

"It was good to see everyone," he said. "We all live nearby - Liana is the furthest, and she's just in Brooklyn - but between work and kids and life, we don't all get together as often as we should."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Anita said that you're the one who's most often missing from Sunday dinners."

He looked like he was thinking about smiling again. "I've spent my whole life hearing _'Anita said'_. How fun that I now get to hear it from you, too."

I shook my finger at him. "Don't go all woe of the eldest sibling on me. You're talking to a youngest child, here. You won't get any sympathy from me on that one."

"What about you? Did you have fun?" He used his hands on my knees to swivel me on my bar stool to face him, and then he gently pushed my knees apart and stepped between them.

"I did. Meeting your family was really nice."

"Uh-oh."

"What, uh-oh?"

"Your voice went all high and fake. What are you not saying?"

"Nothing." I gave him a smile that I could only hope didn't look as forced as it felt. Then I used my hands at his waist to back him up a couple steps so I could slide off my bar stool. "I'm beat. I'm gonna turn in."

"Hey." He followed me down the hallway toward the bedroom. "Are you okay?"

"Everything's fine. I'm just tired, and I think I'm due for a pain pill."

He snagged my hand, stopping me just short of the master bathroom. He gently guided me to the bed. "Take a seat. If you're in pain, you should've said something."

"I'm fine," I protested.

Ignoring me, he retreated into the bathroom and emerged moments later with a pill. He handed it over along with my bottle of water. "Was the dancing too much?"

"No. I loved the dancing. Seriously, I'm fine." I waved him off.

"There's that tone again."

I rolled my eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that these superpowers of observation can be really annoying?"

"You're the only one who's ever told me that."

"Then I think your brother is right. You need to spend more time with normal, non-Rangeman people, because I'm sure that they'd agree with me."

Ranger took a seat next to me at the edge of the bed. "Tell me the truth. Did anyone say anything to you tonight? Did they freak you out?"

"Freak me out? Why would you think that?"

"It's not like they ever hesitate to speak their minds," he said dryly. "Who knows what you could've ended up talking about."

A laugh bubbled up and escaped before I could stop it. I shook my head. "They definitely weren't what I was expecting."

"What did you expect?"

"I didn't know what to expect," I admitted. "I guess maybe a family of Rangers."

"I'm one of a kind."

"You are that."

"Wondering what went wrong?"

"Of course not." I shot him a derisive look, but when I caught his gaze, I saw something unfamiliar there. Uncertainty? In the next instant it was gone, but I couldn't pretend I hadn't seen it. I turned to face him more fully and brought my hands up to rest on his shoulders. "You, Carlos Manoso, are the spitting image of your father. You have his determination, his poise, and his unexpected humor. And you got your mother's eyes and her quiet strength. I don't know them very well, but I do know you, and I can confidently say that you are the best of them, and you're also your own man. I can tell that they're so proud of you. As they should be."

I watched while he absorbed that. I kept my eyes on his to make sure it really sunk in. He brought up one of his hands to cup my face, and his thumb swept over my bottom lip. "Babe."

I closed my eyes then while my heart clenched. I loved it and I hated it when he called me Babe. Loved it because I knew what it was often shorthand for, and hated it because sometimes I just wished he'd say the other words out loud. When I opened my eyes again, he was closer. All I had to do was lean forward, and our lips would meet. Instead, I pulled back.

"I can't do this," I told him.

"I know. You're in pain. I wasn't going to try anything. I just need to kiss you."

"I can't," I said again. I dropped my hands from his shoulders and put enough distance between us until it felt like I could almost breathe. If only he'd stop looking at me.

"What's wrong?"

"I had a really great time tonight."

"And that's a problem?"

"Yes." My fingers were toying with the hem of my shirt. I clasped my hands together in my lap, forcing them to stop. "Did you know that at least three times tonight, I had to try to explain to various members of your family that we aren't together? Like, a couple?"

He expelled a breath. "I tried to warn you. My family can be a little nosy, and they don't always respect boundaries."

"It wasn't the questions that I minded. It was my answers."

"Explain, please."

I tried to gather my thoughts, but wasn't sure how to explain it to him. I'd only recently started to gain better understanding, myself. "Morelli told me that I was 'his Ranger'."

I didn't bother looking up for his reaction. I'd bet my entire bank account that he didn't even have one. At least, not one that I'd be able to read. He remained silent, so I did my best to forge on.

"He meant it in the sense that he felt like the poor schmuck waiting around for me to be the one to adjust _my_ picture of 'Someday' so that it matched his." I drew in a deep breath. "And it made me feel really bad, because I led him on for years. I thought it _was_ possible that my picture would change. That it would morph into what he - and my mother and sister and the entire population of the Burg - thought it should be."

"Sometimes pictures do change."

I forced myself to lift my chin and look him in the eye. "And sometimes they don't."

"I think they do, more often than you know. But it can take time for the new picture to come together."

"I'm afraid that Morelli was right," I admitted.

"About what part?"

I didn't want to say it out loud. Didn't want to admit it even to myself. Because I was afraid that there _was_ a small part of me that was waiting for Ranger's picture to change. I hadn't realized it until tonight. His family was wonderful, but I'd left feeling _disappointed_ \- because they all had what Ranger had always told me he could never offer. I'd convinced myself that maybe he just didn't know how to offer it. Didn't know what that kind of happily-ever-after picture looked like. But I'd now seen firsthand that that wasn't the case.

"What does your picture of 'Someday' look like?" I asked.

He was quiet for long enough that I wondered whether he'd answer. He was doing that thing again where he was reading me. I didn't even want to know what he was seeing.

"I haven't been able to afford the luxury of the picture," he said. "There have been too many times in my life when I assumed I wouldn't get to have a 'Someday'. I had to learn to live for today."

"What happens when that's not enough?"

The blank face was firmly in place. I knew what he was going to say before he said it. "Babe."

I tried to ignore the thickness in my throat. "You love me."

"You know I do."

"You love me as in, you like me being alive and you have fun keeping me that way."

He took a slow breath. "I also love you as in, my day is better when you're a part of it. As in, I look forward to not only getting you in my bed, but to waking up with you still in it."

"But only for today."

I watched his jaw flex. He didn't open his mouth to argue.

"You love me in your own way." I repeated the words he'd given me more than once.

"Yes."

"I think in my picture." I paused to clear my throat. "I want there to be someone who just plain loves me. Without qualifiers."

His Adam's apple bobbed. "It's for your protection."

"I know. You've always been honest about what you can offer, and what you can't. I'm sorry that I haven't been as honest with myself. This is just me trying to do a better job of that."

He reached for my hand again, but I retreated to the bathroom. Toothbrush, makeup remover, sleep shirt. I gathered my things quickly, studiously ignoring the burn of Ranger's eyes on me. My heartbeat was the only sound in my ears as I made my way down the hallway. I flipped the kitchen lights off on my way, though I still felt the pressure of his gaze until I closed the door of the guest room behind me.


	14. Chapter 13

The morning was a lesson in the consequences of my choices. It started at the crack of dawn when I woke up to Ranger standing at the side of the guest bed. Scared the bejeezus out of me. He gave me a moment to get my bearings - strange house, new room - and for my heart rate to come back down out of the stratosphere. Then he handed me the baby Glock and announced that he was going for a run. I needed to guard my own body for the next hour. No sweat.

The baby Glock rested on the nightstand while I rested in my thinking position. I suppose running was Ranger's thinking position. We both had a lot to think about. At least I hoped that we were both thinking about things.

"Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie," I mumbled to myself. My head shaking back and forth.

Last night had been a clusterfuck. Not at all how I'd seen the evening going. I hadn't intended to spill my guts to Ranger or to throw down some sort of ultimatum. That wasn't my intention. But I'd spent a good hour and a half last night thinking over everything I'd said, while I tossed and turned in the guest bed, and unfortunately it was all true. I'd thought I'd done a good job of managing my feelings for Ranger. Putting the relationship in a tidy little box that was clearly labeled. But it turned out that the box had been leaking for a really long time without me realizing.

Was it just because Morelli was officially out of the picture, and my heart was trying to fill in the blank with Ranger? Or was it because Morelli's parting words to me were still ringing in my ears? Those were the questions I'd asked myself over and over. The conclusion I came to was a big fat nope. I was just an idiot. Because I'd accidentally fallen in love. I hadn't realized how far gone I was until last night, when my stomach dropped a little each time I tried to explain our relationship - or lack thereof - to his family.

Where the heck were we supposed to go from here? That was the question I'd left off on last night, and it was the question I pondered for a good thirty minutes while the sun rose. Unfortunately I was still sans answers by the time I gave a huge sigh and dragged myself out of bed. This seemed like a situation that called for denial. Good thing I had lots of practice at it.

My guess was Ranger hadn't found any answers on his run, either. At least, there were no heartfelt proclamations when he returned. His run had taken an hour and a half. He was still winded and dripping with sweat, and we didn't speak while he pounded two glasses of water and then disappeared into the master suite. I was showered and caffeinated and ready to go when he emerged. Even then, our conversation was limited, which wasn't unusual, and it was business-focused. Seemed Ranger was okay with the denial plan.

We'd start the day with capturing Vincent Guzman, then try to catch Chris Fitz with his pants down - hopefully only metaphorically - and then bring in Kate Fitz so she could get rebonded. That should take us through mid-afternoon, at which point Ranger wanted to come back to Newark so he could continue to coordinate the Gabriella situation from afar.

I spent the car ride to Trenton wishing that I had a Zen state like Ranger's. It would come in handy in times like these. Instead, I'd nearly gnawed a hole in my bottom lip by the time we pulled into Cluck-in-a-Bucket. We stood in the morning rush-hour line to order a breakfast biscuit and a Mocha Latte Chiller for me, and a black coffee for Ranger.

We found a table in the corner where we could both have our backs to the wall. I ate and sipped while I kept my eyes on the door. Ranger pretty much stayed in the zone. When it felt like we'd been waiting for half an hour, I sneaked a peek at his watch. It had been six minutes.

I guess I let out a sigh, because Ranger slid his gaze to me. "Problem?"

"Patience isn't my best thing."

That got me an actual smile. He covered it by taking a sip of his coffee.

Luckily I didn't have to wait much longer. At precisely 9:01, Vincent Guzman walked in and took a spot in line. I inclined my head toward him and Ranger nodded.

"How do you want to do this?" he asked.

"I'm going to let him get his breakfast first. I figure I'll catch him right outside the door, in the parking lot."

"Let me know if you want help. Otherwise, it's all you." Ranger tossed our trash and got up to stand near the door. It's not easy to look nonchalant when you're Ranger, but he did the best he could.

I slipped outside and did more waiting. Finally, Vincent came out carrying his to-go bag. I fell into step beside him. "Vincent?"

He paused and looked at me. "Yeah. Do I know you?"

"My name is Stephanie. I'm here to help you reschedule a court date to take care of that pesky felony assault charge."

"Nah, I'm not going to court. That charge was bogus, anyway. I told the stupid cop that those morons kept forgetting to give me my honey butter."

"How can they expect you to eat a breakfast biscuit without honey butter?"

"Right?" He threw up a hand in exasperation. I grabbed it and slapped a cuff on it, and he blinked in surprise. "Whoa. What the hell?"

I stepped behind him, taking the cuffed hand with me, and pulled his other one back behind his back. The second bracelet closed around his wrist. He managed to hold on to his to-go bag.

"Who the hell are you?" He was half outraged, half confused. One hundred percent indignant.

"I told you. I'm Stephanie. We're going to go down to the station to get your court date rescheduled. You can eat your breakfast biscuit on the way."

"How am I supposed to do that with my hands behind my back?"

Huh. I shrugged. "Guess you can eat it when you get there."

We marched over to the SUV where Ranger was waiting. I got Vincent settled in the back, and then slid into the passenger seat next to Ranger. He handed me the rest of my Mocha Latte Chiller. "Nicely done, Babe."

We dropped Vincent off at the station without incident. Once back in the SUV, I smiled down at the body receipt in my hand.

"Is rent taken care of?" Ranger asked.

"Yep. Between Roger and Vincent, I've got enough to cover the month. I still need Kate Fitz, though. She's my grocery and donut money."

"We've got two hours to kill before Chris Fitz shows up at the motel. What's the plan?"

"It'd be really great if I could exchange this receipt for a check, and then go to the bank."

"I'd really prefer that you not go to the bonds office."

"I know." I appreciated his phrasing. I could at least delude myself into thinking I had some free will. Probably he'd resort to forbidding or physically restraining me if I argued the point, but I was hoping there was a better idea. "Do you think you could spare a man to help run an exchange?"

Ranger sent a text, and within ten minutes, we were pulling to a curb behind a Rangeman SUV. A man in black got out and walked over to my window. I handed him the body receipt, he nodded to Ranger, and then he was off.

We waited at the curb for the Rangeman guy to return with my check. I slurped down the rest of my Chiller. Ranger stayed in his zone and spent a couple of minutes scrolling and typing on his phone.

"Any Gabriella news today?" I asked him. "Any more sightings?"

"Not yet."

"Do you think she's still in town?"

"I think if she was going to leave town, she would have done it a week ago. There are too many people looking for her. She's still here for a reason, and I don't think she'll leave until she gets what she needs."

"Do we have any ideas what - or who - that could be?" My top theory was still that she was looking for Ranger. But I didn't have any evidence of that, just a gut feeling.

"No. I talked to my Commander again, and he's been working with the Marshals. Neither of them had any updates. I shared that we'd spotted Gabriella in Trenton, and that was news to them. They're in the dark, too."

"What are we going to do with her when we find her?" I made myself say _when_ , not _if_.

"Depends on what information she has."

I waited for more, but there was none. That was that. Conversation over.

I crossed my legs. Drummed my fingers on the center console. Checked Facebook. Uncrossed my legs. Sighed.

"Babe, it's only been twelve minutes."

Finally the Rangeman SUV returned. Ranger drove me to the bank and I deposited both checks via the drive-thru. I looked at the account balance on the receipt I'd been given and allowed myself a moment to bask in the warm, fuzzy feeling of seeing four digits before the decimal.

"I think we should check out a couple book stores," I told Ranger.

"I'd have guessed you'd want to splurge on shoes."

"Not for me. For Gabriella."

"Explain."

"She has a chest of drawers in her apartment that's basically serving as a library. Her roommate said she was always reading."

He considered this. "Couldn't hurt. I'll put the word out to my men and have them check out the stores in the Burg."

"Don't forget Mary Maggie Mason's shop next door to the bonds office."

Ranger almost smiled. "Hal and Zero have been watching the blocks around the bonds office. I can't wait for their reactions if they find out Gabriella's been camped out twenty yards away this whole time."

We went to the Quaker Bridge Mall first. Although I'd brushed off Ranger's teasing, I didn't dare look inside the shop windows when we passed the store that sold the fun shoes I loved. I really did sort of need new shoes, but not as bad as I needed to not get evicted. And the kind of shoes I needed could be found much cheaper at Target.

No sign of Gabriella at the Barnes & Noble in the mall. Nor at the one off Robbinsville Road. She also wasn't at Red Brick Books or Books-o-Rama. I was feeling restless and a little frustrated when I swung back into the SUV after our last stop.

"Want to drive around and look for the ice cream truck?" I asked Ranger.

"Sure. We'll look for it between here and the motel."

I was still ice-cream-less by the time we pulled into the parking lot. But it was ten after noon, and I was thinking that the opportunity to catch a cheating scumbag might be even better than a scoop of Rocky Road. Derek was manning the front desk again, as expected.

"Remember me?" I asked him.

His eyes darted over my shoulder to take in Ranger, who stood by the door. Then back to me. "Uh-huh."

"Did Chris Fitz check in?"

"About fifteen minutes ago."

"You have that key for me?"

Another quick glance to Ranger, and then Derek nodded. He slid the key across the desk to me. "Please don't get me fired."

Chris Fitz was in Room 12. Even numbers were on the opposite side of the strip of rooms from the one Ranger and I had used yesterday.

"It's only been fifteen minutes. Do you think we should hang out for a little bit, and give him time to get down to it?" As much as I was dreading the potential to see any naked bits, the look on the cheating scumbag's face when we busted him would make it worth it.

"This place is pay-by-the-hour," Ranger said. "I don't think he's doing any wining and dining. I'd say if we don't go in now, we might miss it."

The curtains were drawn on the little front window. I was getting ready to unlock the door, but Ranger stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Forgetting something?"

I had the key card in my hand. Ranger had a gun in his. I did a small eye roll, but I pulled out my stun gun and held it in the other hand while I unlocked the door and threw it open.

Chris Fitz's shocked face was everything I'd been hoping for. He even let out a little scream. And I didn't even have to see any naked bits. In fact, no one was naked.

Chris was reclining on the bed, on top of the covers. A box of half-eaten pizza sat beside him, and he'd spilled soda down his shirt when he startled at my entrance. The TV was showing an action movie. There were candy bar wrappers on the floor beside him, and an open bag of bite-size Snickers bars on the bedside table.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" he shouted, clutching his chest. "Who are you? What's going on?"

"That's my line," I said, somewhat weakly. He'd taken me by surprise with the Coke and pizza, when I'd been expecting a skanky mistress. Don't ask me why, but in my mind's eye, there had been nipple tassels.

"Chris Fitz?" Ranger asked.

"Yeah. Who the heck are you?"

"I'm here on behalf of your wife," I told him. Not entirely a lie. Only like eighty-five percent.

He paled. "Kate knows I'm here?"

"She said that you were having an affair. She thinks you've been coming here with your mistress."

"Oh, fudge." His eyes went wide and he raked his hand through his hair. "I'm not. I swear, I'm not. I would never cheat on my wife."

"Then what is this?" I gestured at the room.

"Sometimes I just need some time to myself, you know?" His voice was laced with panic. "I swear, it started with just one baseball game. I just wanted some peace and quiet to watch the game. But then it worked so well, and no one was the wiser, so I just kept coming here."

"Well, Kate _is_ the wiser."

His hands were pulling at the ends of his hair. "Her parents moved to freaking Florida. They were the only ones who had ever watched our kids. And then they moved thousands of miles away. Do you know what that means?"

"No date nights?" I guessed.

"No date nights. No baseball games. No reading the Sunday morning paper while I'm in the bathroom, because Joey has to go to the bathroom every time Daddy does." He was off the bed now and pacing. "No single moment of peace and quiet! The kids are _always. There._ Do you know what that's like? Do you?"

"No," I answered honestly. "But your wife does."

He sat back on the bed and put his face in his hands. "She's a freaking saint. The stress never gets to her."

"I think it does," I told him. "I think you need to talk to her about it. Definitely you need to go home and at least tell her that you've been coming to this rat trap to eat pizza, and not… you know."

He nodded miserably. "Yeah."

"Maybe it's time to find a new babysitter."

"Yeah," he agreed again. Still with his head in his hands.

" _Now_ would be a good time to have that conversation."

"Right." He stood from the bed and gave the bag of Snickers a forlorn look. "I guess I should go."

"I think it would also be a good idea to give your wife the day off tomorrow. It's Saturday. Volunteer to stay home with the kids and send her out for a mani pedi and a massage."

"Right. Right," he mumbled. He ended up grabbing the bag of Snickers from the nightstand and walked to the door with it.

"And tell her Stephanie Plum is going to swing by in the afternoon to help her reschedule her court date."

"Sure." He edged past Ranger toward the door.

"You'll probably want to pick up flowers on your way home," Ranger told him.

"And for God's sake, make sure you save her some Snickers," I added.

Chris left, and I turned off the television. I stood staring at the rumpled bed and greasy pizza box. Then I narrowed my eyes at Ranger. "Men are so stupid."

I brushed past him to the door, not wanting to see the smile I had a feeling he was wearing.

Derek looked nervous when I breezed back into the main office. I slapped the key card down. "Thanks for your help. Chris Fitz had to check out early. You'll want to send housekeeping in to turn over the room."

"Okay. Here's your other key." He slid another key card across the desk to me. "Room 17. Same one you had yesterday."

"Oh, no," I said. "We don't need the room today. We're all set. Thanks."

"No, wait," Derek said. "I'm supposed to tell you that you _want_ this key."

I paused, staring down at the key in front of me. Ranger stepped up beside me. "Who told you to give us this?"

Derek paled under Ranger's hard stare. He backed up a bit from the desk. "She said I'm not supposed to say. I'm just supposed to give you the key and tell you that you _want_ it."

"She?"

Ranger and I looked at each other. We were thinking the same thing. Without another word to Derek, Ranger swiped the key off the desk. He cupped my elbow, spun me around, and marched me off in the direction of Room 17.

"You think it's _her?_ _"_ I asked under my breath. Then I dropped my voice to a whisper. "Gabriella?"

"Let's find out. Get ready."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "I'm ready."

He cut his eyes to me and I could have sworn I saw the corners of his mouth twitch. Probably it was an optical illusion. "I meant get your gun in your hand."

"Yep. I knew that." I rummaged through my bag and came up with my stun gun. "This is going to have to do. No matter who's on the other side of that door, I really don't think I'm going to be able to shoot them."

Ranger looked like he was contemplating what an argument about the gun thing was worth to him. But then we were standing in front of Room 17, and he was out of time. He positioned me behind him, with his body between me and the door. He looked back at me, I nodded, and he slid the key into the door.

He had his Glock in his hand while he pushed the door open. I couldn't see much past his broad back, but I knew he was taking in the room at a glance. Then he let go of the door, used his free hand to grab my wrist and pull me forward, keeping me behind him. He kicked the door closed behind us.

" _Hol_ _á, Ranger. ¿Qué pasa?"_

I shook off Ranger's grip on my wrist and moved up to his side. Sitting on the foot of the bed in front of us was Gabriella Ayala. Her eyes flickered to me, and then back to Ranger.

"You are a difficult man to talk to alone."


	15. Chapter 14

"I've been looking for you," Ranger said.

"No. Your _people_ have been looking for me," Gabriella corrected. "I have been looking for _you._ "

Ranger holstered his gun and crossed his arms over his chest. "My men would have brought you to me. Why have you been running?"

"You have more trust in your men than I do. I hope it is well-placed."

Quiet for a moment, he studied her. "Do you have a reason to believe it's not?"

"We have a lot to talk about." Gabriella's eyes cut to me, and then back to Ranger pointedly. "Alone."

"Stephanie is with me." There was no arguing with his tone. "She stays."

It was Gabriella's turn to silently consider. She appraised me for several long moments, and then finally shrugged. I couldn't help but feel a little offended by the shrug. I'd been deemed not a threat. Sometimes that was helpful, but there were times I wished someone would look at me and think I posed a risk. This was one of those times.

"You know who's looking for you?" Ranger asked her.

"Everyone. Including her." She nodded toward me. A throwaway gesture. I tried to muster up some indignation. Mostly I just wanted to take Gabriella by the shoulders and shake her until answers started to spill out.

"Stephanie is an apprehension agent. You got yourself arrested, and you skipped your court date. Probably a good thing you didn't show up, all things considered, but the arrest part wasn't a smart idea."

" _You_ were supposed to be an apprehension agent," she said. "I was hoping it would be you who came after me."

A-ha! I felt vindicated. Ranger was still arms crossed, feet wide, wearing his intimidation face. Probably I shouldn't elbow him and do the _I was right_ gesture. Keep it together, Stephanie. Look tough.

"Why?" Ranger asked.

Gabriella's cool-as-a-cucumber facade slipped a bit. She ran her fingers through her hair. "I came to find you. There is a lot I need to tell you."

"If you have more information about Valdez, you could have told the Marshals. Could've saved yourself the trip and the trouble."

"I don't trust them."

"And you trust me?" Ranger's tone relayed his doubt.

" _S_ _í."_

"Why?"

"Because Nestor _doesn_ _'t_ trust you," she said. "And because I have no better choice."

"Explain."

Gabriella sighed. Then she gestured around at the room. "You should make yourselves comfortable. This may take awhile."

There weren't a lot of options in the room. I took a seat in the single armchair near the window. Ranger rested his behind against the entertainment center. "Is this about _Los Reyes_ _'s_ missing shipment?"

She shook her head. "I know that _Los Reyes_ believe that I have the missing _coca_ _ína_ , and I have heard that _Par de Balos_ have men looking for me so that they can pin the theft on me."

"I take it you don't have it?"

"No. I don't care about that. Although I do not enjoy the big, ugly man with the scar chasing me with his knife."

Ranger raised a brow. "I don't think I know him."

"I believe he is with _Par de Balos_. I've seen him twice now. He's been following me."

"A lot of people have been following you."

"Most of them are easily dealt with. Your men are not so easily shaken. Nor this man with the scar. Everyone else has not been a problem."

"I assume you made sure to shake them loose before you came here?"

Jeez, I hoped so. We hadn't had anyone banging down the door yet. Would be really nice if it stayed that way.

"I haven't slept. I finally lost the man with the scar in the early morning, and I kept driving to make sure he stayed lost. Then I came here to find you." She smiled and looked over at me again. "I noticed yesterday that you both seem to spend a lot of time here."

"Occupational hazard," I said. Then I realized how that could sound. "Because of chasing after scumbags. Not because I'm… you know. Not that there's anything wrong with that. My friend used to be in that line of work. I don't judge."

Ranger was looking at the carpet and trying not to smile. Gabriella just nodded. "No judgment," she agreed.

"Let's start at the beginning," Ranger suggested, dragging us back on track. "You ran away from WitSec. Why?"

"To find you. I have information that you need. That _I need_ you to have."

"So let's hear it."

She ran her fingers through her hair again. Nervous tic. "I know that your Bravo team is planning to capture Nestor while he's in Palmira for his _primo_ _'s_ wedding."

By the way Ranger's body went still and his eyes sharpened, I could tell this meant something to him. I was in the dark. He had her fixed with his hard stare.

"I know this because Nestor knows it, too," she continued. "Needless to say, he is not planning on becoming captured."

More silence from Ranger. If I were Gabriella, I'd definitely be sweating by now. To her credit, she didn't break his gaze, but she was fidgeting. She ran her palms over her denim-clad thighs.

"It is in both our best interests that you and your Bravo team come up with a new plan."

"You're confident about this," Ranger said. A bystander might say it was a casual observation. Not sure if even Gabriella realized the extent of the tension simmering just below the surface. A certain stillness had settled over him.

"I would be happy for you to tell me that the information is incorrect."

Ranger's lack of answer was answer enough.

"That's what I feared."

"Tell me where and how you heard this."

"You know that Nestor Valdez and I lived together for over two years," she said. Ranger gave a small nod in confirmation. "During that time, he grew lax in maintaining privacy in his business matters."

"We know that you heard a lot," Ranger said. "Saw a lot. That's why we offered you the deal - a new life in exchange for your testimony. And yet, you just threw that life away."

She straightened and raised her chin. "We will come to that. I have a favor to ask of you in exchange for this information I'm bringing."

"Can't wait," he deadpanned. Then he rolled his hand. "Continue. Are you saying that you overheard Valdez talking about the wedding in Palmira, and you assumed that we would see it as an opportune time to move in?"

"No. What I heard was one of your Bravo team _telling_ Nestor that they would be there."

Ranger soaked that in for nearly a full thirty seconds before he spoke. "How do you know it was a team member?"

Gabriella shrugged. "He spoke and acted like he was. I suppose I can't be sure. The question is, are you? Based on this information, who else could it have been?"

I watched Ranger, hoping that he would have an explanation for us. That this wasn't as bad as it was sounding. But instead, he was quiet while the muscle in his jaw ticked.

"Who was it?" he asked finally.

"I never saw his face. Nestor spoke with him via the computer, but they did not use video. I can only confidently say that it was a man, because I heard his voice."

"Tell me everything you heard."

"I didn't have the opportunity to stand around and listen to full conversations," she said. "But I heard enough, over the course of several separate calls, to understand about the Palmira wedding. This man of yours tipped Nestor off, but their deal was that Nestor must still go. Neither of them wanted to arouse suspicion of their… relationship. Of their communication."

"So what's Valdez's plan?"

"He has gotten his _primo_ to agree to use the wedding as a cover for an ambush. The real wedding will be postponed. All of the guests will be _Los Reyes_ , Nestor's best men, and they will be waiting for your Bravo team. They plan to kill half of you, and detain the others. They will trade the remaining Bravo men back to the United States in exchange for political favor."

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It was all awful. The fact that Ranger had a traitor on his team. The fact that the leader of a powerful drug cartel was conspiring to kill him. And yet, all of that fell into place for me. The political favor piece didn't match up. To my knowledge, the US didn't tend to get that closely involved in mercenary operations, even if some of the other team members were also ex-military. Why would Valdez think that he would get anything of significance in exchange for a couple of mercs?

That wasn't where Ranger wanted to focus, though. "How do you know you can trust me? That I'm not the one who's been in communication with Valdez?"

"They mentioned you once," Gabriella said. "They were deciding which Bravos would be killed, and which would be captured and traded. Nestor was interested in you, specifically, and he asked if you could be bought off. The other man was very definitive - No. Never, he said. He recommended that you be killed."

I swallowed hard. My eyes went to Ranger again. He'd hardly moved since the conversation began. "How did you know it was me? And how did you find me?"

"They referred to you as Bravo One, and as Ranger. I put your face to the name on the night you captured me. Your team members were speaking to you and about you, and I understood that you were him."

"How did you find me here in Trenton?" he asked again.

"That night after you captured me, I heard you and another man speaking right outside my room. He asked you about 'Rangeman'. I knew, all along, that I needed to find a way to get you alone and to speak with you about this. So I remembered everything about that night. It took me several months of research to find you, even with 'Rangeman'. I went to Miami first, but it didn't take me long to realize you were not there. I came to Trenton next. And here you were."

"You could've spoken to me that night. Or the next day, when we were transferring you to the Marshals' custody."

Gabriella shook her head. "We were never alone. I didn't dare mention it in front of anyone else. Do you not understand? You have at least one person on your team who is a traitor."

"Trust me, I understand," Ranger said darkly.

"I do trust you. I have no choice."

"What's in this for you?" I asked. Ranger's eyes flickered to me briefly before landing back on Gabriella.

She straightened again. "That leads me to the favor I have to ask."

"You can ask," Ranger said. "I may or may not be able to deliver."

"I have a sister," Gabriella started. "She is still living in Colombia, just outside Cali. She is my only family, and I worry for her safety. Although Nestor seemed to have not been warned by this Bravo traitor about my capture, I have to assume that he knows now, or will find out, that it was not as it seemed. He will consider _me_ a traitor."

"And you're worried that he'll take it out on your sister."

She nodded. "I wish for her to be brought to the states, and for both of us to be placed back in the protection program. And I wish for the Marshals to help me get her into a rehab program."

Ranger was impassive, giving nothing away. "I'll see what we can do."

There were several moments of silence while we all absorbed everything at our own paces. Finally I broke the silence. "What now?"

Ranger looked at Gabriella. "You'll need to go back underground. Move into a safe house, until we get things figured out."

"I am happy to. Staying invisible in this city has not been easy."

He nodded. "We can help with that."

"Who is 'we'?" she asked uneasily.

Ranger had his phone in his hand and was typing out a text as he spoke. "Only a few of my most trusted men will know anything. I find it extremely unlikely, given everything I've heard, that anyone within Rangeman is a mole. They just don't know enough about Bravo team and my work on Valdez. But I'm not completely discounting the fact that there may be multiple people working together. Until we've put this to bed, we're keeping you under wraps. A couple of my men will bring you to a safe house and stay with you. In the meantime, I'm going to keep the search for you going. The rest of my men won't know that anything has changed. It will also help us keep _Los Reyes_ and _Par de Balos_ occupied and throw them off your scent."

Gabriella agreed. While we waited for Ranger's men to arrive, he explained that she'd be staying at a safe house on Lake Hopatcong. He committed to trying to arrange for her request of having her sister brought to the US. Gabriella gave him her sister's information and he wrote it on a notepad he found in the nightstand, and stuck the sheet of paper in his pocket.

Within ten minutes, Ranger's phone buzzed and he checked it before opening the door to Lester and Bobby. Both wore serious faces, but Bobby nodded at me and Les spared me a wink and a smile. Ranger explained the plan. Bobby took Gabriella's duffel bag while Lester placed one hand between her shoulder blades as they walked her out to the waiting SUV. They each kept their gun arm free.

"Whoa," I said succinctly once they were gone.

"Shit."

Yep. That about summed it up, too.

"Is there any way she could be mistaken?" I asked. "That the man she heard talking to Valdez is not who she thinks he is?"

I was sitting on the bed, and Ranger took a seat in the armchair I'd vacated. "I've been trying to think of a loophole, something to make it not true. I haven't had any luck with that yet."

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

I couldn't imagine what that felt like, to know that there was someone who was supposed to be on your team but had betrayed you. He'd not only sold Ranger and the others out to the bad guy, but he'd recommended that Ranger be killed. If I ever met this person, I'd kick him so hard that he'd choke on his own balls.

"What are we going to do?"

He sighed. "I need to get back to my computer. I don't have access to the right networks via my phone, and I need to start fishing around. Obviously, we'll need to replan the Palmira mission."

"But you'll need to do it vary carefully, so the wrong person - or people - don't get tipped off that you know anything you're not supposed to."

"And so that whoever the traitor is doesn't just turn around and give the new plan to Valdez."

"So first order of business, find out who the traitor is. Any ideas?"

"Unfortunately, no. But I have ideas about who it _isn_ _'t._ We'll have to start there."

###

Six hours later, the sun was setting and I was feeling useless. I'd read a couple more military training manuals, but my mind was elsewhere, so I hoped no one tested my knowledge on stronghold raids. Ranger was still in his office.

My stomach was telling me it was dinner time, and the clock confirmed. Ranger's freezer was woefully devoid of pizza or microwave meals. Everything in there required actual cooking. I settled for a peanut butter sandwich, even though it had to be on whole wheat with all-natural peanut butter. Definitely not the same as the worthless white bread and sugar-laden Skippy I was accustomed to.

I made one for Ranger, too, figuring I'd leave it for him to eat when he was finished. But he emerged from the hallway just as I was plating the second sandwich. He looked weary as he sat at one of the bar stools. I slid him the plate and took the seat next to him.

"Any news?" I asked.

"Bobby and Lester reported in. They made it to the safe house with Gabriella. All's quiet."

"That's good."

"I reached out to the commander of Bravo team. I also reached out to a couple other people in the community whom I feel confident in."

"And?"

"I've only heard back from one so far. She's one of the lead intelligence analysts that my team works with. She's been working on Valdez alongside us for years."

"And you can feel pretty confident that she's not the traitor, because she's a woman."

He nodded. "She's going to reach out to a couple of people she trusts in her own networks, and help figure out a plan. I'll connect with our commander to work it from our side."

"What about the Marshals? Was Gabriella right not to trust them? Could they be involved?"

"Unlikely, but I understand her hesitation. At this point, I don't have a good enough reason to loop them in, even though I think the risk is low. Gabriella is safe at the lake for now. The Marshals won't be able to do much to help us with the Valdez side of things."

"Gabriella said that the wedding is in three weeks?" I asked nervously.

"Yes. We have a tight timeline to figure out how we're going to handle things. The ideal scenario is that we can come up with an alternate plan to capture him _before_ the wedding."

"I assume that if that were easy to do, you would have done it already."

"You assume right," he admitted. "It's taken nearly a year to plan this capture."

"We'll figure something out." I put a lot more confidence in my voice than I was feeling at that moment.

Ranger gave a nod, and then reached over to take my empty plate and brought both to the sink. I moved from the kitchen back to the couch and plopped down. He joined me and left a respectable bunch of inches separating us.

"I'll need to stay here tomorrow to keep working on this," he said.

"I need to be back in Trenton in the afternoon to bring in Kate Fitz, and then nab Lenny Bennett at Dougie's flash sale."

"I know. Tank is going to pick you up here and stick with you. Any other plans tomorrow besides the two skips?"

"I might check in with Connie. See what else has come in over the past few days."

He raised his brow. "What about your life plan? I thought you wanted a new direction."

"I haven't exactly had much time to buff up my resume." Yep, that was the reason I hadn't found a new job yet. Keep telling yourself that, Stephanie.

"I suppose that's true."

He left it at that. I looked over at him, his head reclined back against the couch. "You look tired."

His mouth flattened in a tight smile. "Didn't sleep well last night."

"Me neither."

He was quiet for a long moment, and I thought we were going to settle into silence and then maybe go our separate ways. But then he spoke quietly. "I sleep better with you."

I gave a sigh and closed my eyes, my head resting back against the cushions. It was easier when I didn't have to look at him. "I feel like we need to talk. But I don't think this is the right time."

"Okay. Your call."

I opened my eyes and turned to him again. The blank face was especially troubling when it was creased with weariness. "It's been a long day. I doubt either of us has had enough time to think things through."

"Shit." He dragged his hand over his face. "If you honestly believe that I haven't been thinking about it for every minute of the past 20 hours, then I'm an even bigger asshole than I thought."

"You're only rarely an asshole," I assured him. Mostly joking.

"Stephanie, you walked away from me."

I swallowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't plan it, I just -"

He held up a hand. "I'm not looking for an apology. What I'm saying is, yes, I've been thinking about everything you said. There's no way I could think about anything else."

"Could've fooled me." I was a little bewildered. Was he truly that good at compartmentalizing? Within the span of the past eight hours, he'd been Bravo One, CEO Ranger, and Mercenary Ranger. "So where did you land? After the thinking."

"I still need some time."

"Okay." I swallowed my disappointment. "We can talk again in a few days. Is that enough time?"

"That's not what I mean. I mean that I need time to get rid of the qualifiers."

I took a moment. "The qualifiers…"

"You said that you wanted someone who can love you without qualifiers. That's fair. I want that, too. For both of us. You don't deserve anything less. But you need to give me more time."

My heart was beating faster, and my palms were getting sweaty. It felt weird to be talking about this so rationally. I felt like, with any given word from him, the world as I knew it was going to come crumbling down around me.

"We've been doing this dance for years," I said carefully. "If that hasn't been enough, then I don't think time is the answer. How much more time could you possibly need?"

"Four months and twelve days."

I blinked. "That's oddly specific."

"December first."

" _That_ _'s_ the day? That's the day you'll be ready to tell me whether our pictures line up?" I didn't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes or punch him. "Let me just pencil that into my calendar."

"Consider it a date."

I settled on laughing. "You're not serious."

He looked at me steadily. His face implied that he was.

I threw in an eye roll for good measure. "Okay. You win. Tell me, why December first? Is that the day you're picking up your crystal ball from the repair shop?"

"I don't need a crystal ball to tell me whether our pictures of 'Someday' will line up." He reached over to snag my hand, and I let him. "But December first is the day that I get to allow myself to think about 'Someday'."

I could feel my heartbeat in my mouth, but I spoke around it. "Why?"

He was quiet for a moment, playing with our intertwined fingers. Then he let out a breath, and I realized I'd been holding mine. "That's the day my contract is up."

"Contract?"

"Need-to-know."

"And you think I don't need to know?"

"I like the people in my life to have plausible deniability. The less you know about what I do, the better."

"Thus the qualifiers." I should've known. He truly was the master of compartmentalization.

"Until then, I can't offer more. I'm sorry. But I do love you, as much as I'm capable of right now."

"And I love you."

The corners of his mouth lifted. "You do?"

"As much as you'll let me," I told him. "Maybe a little bit more. That's the scary part."

His eyes were solemn. His voice quiet. "Please don't give up on me now."

"I'm not." I shook my head for emphasis. "That was never my intention."

"I thought maybe it was."

"I'm not asking for forever, either. But it would be nice to know if there's an opportunity for _maybe_." I bit my tongue for a second, debating whether to add the last part. Then I decided, go for broke. "And it would also be nice to know whether we're the _only_ maybe in each other's lives."

I held my breath, waiting for his answer. Luckily I didn't have to wait long. In a rare display of surprise, Ranger's brow rose.

"You've been the only one in my life for a long time."

It was my turn to be surprised, but the embarrassment probably masked it. "I'm sorry. I know that's totally hypocritical of me. Now I'm the one who's an asshole."

"Only very rarely."

"So what now?"

"We both know how we feel, right?"

I nodded slowly. Took me long enough, but yes, I could more confidently say that I knew how I felt. Couldn't say that it was entirely comforting, given the circumstances, but still - progress.

"We keep being honest with each other," Ranger suggested. "And we revisit this conversation on December first."

"That's it?"

"That's my proposal. For now." He watched me intently. "What do you say?"

To be honest, it sounded pretty good to me. I'd never intended to turn anything upside down or put our relationship at risk. With everything else we had on our plates, I was a-okay with keeping things status quo between us. We both knew we loved each other. Neither of us knew quite what that meant long-term, or how long it would last, but did anyone ever really know that?

"Okay."

He pulled on my hand to tug me forward and looped his other arm around my waist, lifting me up and depositing me on his lap. Once I was comfortably straddling him, he brought both hands up and twined his fingers behind my neck. "Does that mean you'll be in my bed again tonight?"

Although his mouth wasn't smiling, his eyes were. I smiled back. "Guess that depends. What do you plan to do with me once we get there?"

"Does your decision depend on my answer?"

My decision was already made. There were a few different things on my to-do list, and sleep was at the bottom. Rather than tell him my answer, I decided to show it. After all, they do say that actions speak louder than words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi, it's me. I still haven't read enough in this fandom to know how explicit we like to get here. LOL. This chapter was heavy, so it didn't fit here, but if there's interest, I'll post a "Chapter 14.5". Do you guys want some mild smut, or should we fade to black and carry on with more plot?


	16. Chapter 14.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE** This is a mini chapter of smut. There is literally nothing but smut here. If that's not your cuppa tea, I hope that you'll just skip right ahead to Chapter 15 and continue enjoying the rest of the story. It's ready and waiting for you. You will not miss any plot if you skip this chapter. I promise.
> 
> For those who wanted a little more than the "fade to black" approach, this is for you.

I leaned forward, closing the short distance between us, and brushed his lips with mine. It was a soft touch, fleeting and gentle. My eyes were still open, and I leaned back again to meet his gaze. I saw everything I needed to reflected back at me before I kissed him again.

He parted his mouth against me, his bottom lip pulling against mine. When his tongue licked into my mouth, I might have moaned a little. And that's when his careful control shattered like glass.

His hands flew up and tangled themselves in my hair, holding me to him. He kissed me like he wanted the air I was breathing. I arched my back, pressing closer, doing my best to eliminate every inch of space between us.

His hand slid down my back, and then back up, tracing my spine under my tshirt. His fingers traced over the clasp of my bra before he flicked it open, and then there was an abrupt chill as he pulled away from me to whip the shirt and bra off of me in one go.

My hands roamed over his chest, craving the warmth of his skin, but he distracted me before I could divest him of his shirt. His mouth trailed across my jaw to my ear, and then down my neck. His hot breath was maddening, making me writhe under his touch. He leisurely made his way to the sensitive spot on my neck and nipped at it. I couldn't help the small noise that escaped me, and that only spurred him on.

I tugged at his shirt, and when he realized what I wanted, he had to pull away to help me work it over his head. It fluttered to the floor behind me. Ranger slid a hand lower on my back, then lower still, until it slipped below the waistband of my jeans. He pulled me closer so I could feel him pressing against my center, even through all the clothes still separating us. A jolt of heat sizzled through my limbs, making me feel restless and impatient.

And speaking of clothes, we needed less of them, and fast. Ranger seemed to be in agreement as he made a small noise of frustration and brought both his hands down to work at my jeans. The muscles of his stomach twitched under my fingers as I slid them lower, and I got a little hung up exploring the ridges and planes of his body. Probably that was why I'd barely managed to get his belt unbuckled by the time he had me completely unbuttoned and unzipped.

He slid both hands beneath my waistband again. He kneaded my butt before sliding his hand to my front, but my jeans and our position meant that he couldn't get a good angle for what he wanted. He pushed me backwards, gently, until my feet landed on the floor. I took the cue to quickly strip out of my jeans while Ranger watched. By all rights, the heat in his eyes should have melted me into a puddle, but I heroically kept my legs under me. Barely.

Once I stood before him in only my panties, he grasped my hand and tried to pull me back to him, but I resisted. Instead, I dropped to my knees in front of the couch.

One of his hands cupped my cheek, and his thumb ran over my lip. "Babe."

He was laid out before me like a tantalizing buffet, chest rising and falling rapidly. My hands went back up to his waistband and tugged. "A little help, here."

He obligingly lifted his hips, and together we managed to get his cargoes out of the way. I gripped the undersides of his thighs and pulled him forward on the couch, then ran my hands around to his knees and pushed them apart so I could kneel between them. He watched me with an intensity usually reserved for a predator stalking its prey.

Lowering my mouth to him, I gave in to my baser urges. Stroking, licking, caressing. I loved his eyes watching me and his hands skimming over any part of me he could reach. Loved the feel of him and of the power I wielded. Loved the taste of him and the sounds I wrung from him.

His breathing became ragged and I felt him fighting not to thrust his hips while I worked him with my mouth and hands. I swirled my tongue around his head again, lapping up the pre-cum that seeped from him. Then I closed my lips more firmly around him again and sucked. Hard.

"Steph." My name was a strangled groan, and I paid attention to the warning in his tone. "Come here."

I crawled back up his body, settling back down to straddle him again. I rocked my hips against his, craving some friction. He growled low in his throat. The feel of him hot and hard beneath me was nearly maddening, and then he rolled his tongue over my nipple and my vision went dark at the edges.

"Please," I panted.

"Please, what?" His voice was rough but annoyingly calm, so I rocked against him again. He retaliated by scraping my nipple with his teeth and I nearly passed out.

I fought to catch my breath, but it was a losing battle as long as he was doing those wicked things with his mouth. The fingers of one hand were at the hollow of my hip, sliding just under the band of my underwear, and then back out. Back and forth. My own hands tightened in response, trying to pull him closer to me.

Finally, the hand that had been teasing me moved to my center, and he stroked me through my wet panties. I made an embarrassing sound in the back of my throat. I shifted my hips again impatiently, trying to bring his fingertips back where I needed them, but then suddenly we were standing. Well, Ranger was. He lifted me with his hands under my butt, and I wrapped my legs around his hips.

"Where?" he demanded. He liked for me to choose. Oftentimes my choice was the first available surface, but in deference to my still-healing gunshot sound, I figured we'd better play it safe.

"Bed," I mumbled against his mouth. His tongue stroked against mine, hot and demanding, while he carried me into the bedroom.

It had been awhile - a few months? - since I'd been with Ranger. Every time, I somehow managed to convince myself that at least pieces of our time together had been a fever dream. Surely no one was _that_ good.

But Ranger was.

He laid me gently on the bed and lowered himself on top of me. He planted open-mouthed kisses down my throat. His erection lay thick and heavy against my stomach, painting my skin with the warm wetness of his pre-cum. His fingers toyed with one of my breasts in an imitation of what his mouth was doing to the other. But we both knew that was just a pit stop to his final destination.

He gripped the backs of my knees and shoved them apart, making room for himself between my thighs. He hadn't even touched me yet, and synapses were firing all across my body. Little fireworks were already going off, _everywhere._ At the first touch of his tongue, my hands fisted in the sheets. At the second touch, I started to worry that this was going to be over embarrassingly quickly. I tried deep breathing, and when that didn't work, I tried holding my breath. None of that was enough to stop my internal clock's countdown to detonation, which apparently was set to approximately 10.5 seconds when Ranger was at the controls.

Ever fiber of my being was still pulsing with each heartbeat by the time I managed to drag my eyelids open to see Ranger leaning over me. His smile was satisfied, but his piercing gaze spoke of barely restrained lust. That was enough to bring me back to myself. I reached my hand down between us and had the pleasure of hearing his breathing hitch.

"Condom?"

He rolled over to reach into a drawer in one of the nightstands. He came back with the packet between his fingers, but his other hand smoothed gently over the bandage on my stomach. "Are you sure?"

As outrageously and aggressively as Ranger flirted, when it came down to it, he always made me confirm my choice. The gunshot wound was an added consideration this time, but no doubt he would've asked anyway. And my answer was the same as it always was.

" _Yes._ _"_

I snatched the condom from his hands and carefully tore it open, then took my time in rolling it over him. By the time I was done teasing, he'd somehow ended up flat on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes. I grabbed his forearm and dragged it away, and he lifted his head for a searing kiss.

No sooner had I made a move to climb on top of him, than Ranger flipped me over and had both of my wrists pinned above my head with one hand. I closed my eyes against the exquisite stretch as he filled me, but I knew from experience that he wouldn't let that stand for long.

"Look at me."

Only when I obliged did he begin to move. He relinquished my hands, which I ran up and down his back, over his arms, into his hair. I wanted to touch him anywhere and everywhere at once. My fingers sought, gripped, scrambled for purchase - anything to help me climb this wave higher and higher.

Our breath mingled. Ranger licked at my lips. It was all too much. And yet wasn't enough. Until he slid a hand under my butt and angled me up for him. He shifted his hips, pressing against me in a new way. My awareness narrowed to our connection, and I struggled to breathe for a moment while I crested the wave, and then I cried out when it crashed.

Ranger continued to move inside me while I rode the wave down, and then he picked up his pace. I wasn't sure if he was prolonging my orgasm or if each shockwave that rolled through me was a new one. Just when I was thinking that I couldn't take any more and would have to beg for mercy, Ranger stilled. He groaned his release and I felt his muscles tense and then slowly relax under my hands. He kept just enough weight on his forearms that he wouldn't crush me.

We stayed entwined while we both worked to catch our breath. Ranger, having far better aerobic capacity, was the first to recover and he gently lifted himself off of me and came to land next to my hip. He ran his fingers through my hair.

"Babe," he whispered.

I smiled.


	17. Chapter 15

"Thanks again for everything," Kate Fitz called. I gave her a wave. Then she followed the officer through the door into the bowels of the cop shop. Off to get rebooked.

Robin raised an eyebrow at me while she wrote out my body receipt. Yeah, tell me about it. If only all the skips I brought in were that pleasant.

With my fresh body receipt in hand, I exited the building with Tank hot on my heels. Ever the vigilant watchdog. We climbed up into his SUV and he turned over the engine while I dug out my cell phone and called Connie.

"I know, I know," she answered. "I got held up, but I'm on my way."

"They're booking Kate now," I said. "You've got about twenty more minutes before she'll be ready to rebonded anyway."

"My last interviewee today just would not. Stop. Talking," Connie griped. "Are you _sure_ you need to leave? Because trying to replace you is becoming a real pain in my ass."

I hesitated, and Connie pounced.

"Ohmigod. You're not, are you? Are you having second thoughts? Ohmigod, please say you are. I'll buy extra Boston Cremes from here on out, I swear. Just please say that you'll stay. Put me out of my misery."

"What else has come in?" I asked. It wasn't like I was making any commitments, I told myself. I was just curious. That was all.

"We've got a couple new assaults, a DUI, and a shoplifter. If you want some extra fun money, I can bring you the DUI. Should be an easy $100."

Some extra fun money did sound pretty nice. Especially since I was planning on buying that new pair of jeans at Dougie's flash sale, and that would set me back a bit in my grocery and donut budget. Plus, it might make me feel better about the lack of progress on the new job front.

Connie pushed forward, sensing that I was cracking. "$100 is a pretty damn nice pair of shoes."

I sighed. "Fine. Bring me the DUI."

Connie's response was muffled, but I could imagine she was pumping her fist in the air. "I'll be there in ten."

I hung up and looked at Tank. "We're going to wait for Connie."

He nodded, put the car back in park, and left the engine running. It wasn't that we didn't care about the ozone, but sitting in a parked car without AC at this time of year was just not done in Jersey.

The ten minutes passed in mind-numbing silence. I was almost becoming used to it. The first half of the day had been spent bumming around the Newark house while Ranger was holed up in his office, working his professional networks. Occasionally I heard the low murmur of his voice through the walls while he was on secure calls. Tank had arrived to pick me up in the early afternoon, as planned.

I used to think that Ranger was quiet while he was driving. That just goes to prove that I hadn't spent much time in a car with Tank. The 68 minutes between Ranger's Newark house and Kate Fitz's place were a whole new level of boredom. Made me wish I'd brought one of the military training manuals to keep my mind occupied. There was one on freefall parachuting that I was looking forward to.

Jeez. Probably I should've picked up a magazine or something when we were at the bookstore yesterday.

True to her word, Connie pulled in to the police station lot eleven minutes later. I rolled down my window and she handed me a stack of files.

She responded to my raised eyebrows with a palms up gesture. "Hey, no pressure. I just figured, you know, it couldn't hurt to have the files on you in case you run into one of the assault guys at Giovichinni's or something."

"I'm not committing to anything."

"Of course not." Her tone was placating, but I decided to ignore it.

Connie went into the station to start working on rebonding Kate Fitz. Tank and I motored off to our next stop, which was to pick up Lula. We were going to be fashionably late to the flash sale. That was fine. I'd already texted Dougie and asked him to set that pair of jeans aside for me, so I wasn't too worried.

We pulled up in front of Lula's house, and within five seconds she was out the door and hustling toward us. The hustling part couldn't have been easy in her strappy, three-inch-stiletto Via Spigas, but Lula made it work. She hoisted herself up into the backseat of the SUV, simultaneously tugging down on the hot pink mini skirt that had ridden up in the process.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," she huffed. "Let's get outta here. Step on it."

I peered over the back of my seat to look at her. "What's up?"

"Some good-for-nothings been driving past my house for the past couple hours," Lula said. "At first I thought, okay, so I picked up some admirers. It happens. But after like the third time, it was starting to get annoying. You're either gonna come chat me up, or you're not, right? I don't got all day to wait around. And then on the last pass a few minutes ago, one of 'em leans out his window and eyes me all menacing like, and he does the finger gun thing, like he's sighting on me. And that's about when I decided, enough is enough, and I pull out my gun."

I squinched my eyes shut and banged my forehead against the back of my seat.

"But I just had a manicure, and I didn't want to ruin it, so I was being careful. I guess I was too slow, because he got a shot off before I did. He freaking shot my window! So now I'm real mad, right, and I storm down the stairs and am about to tell him he needs to pay for that window, but before I'm even out the door I hear tires squealing, and he's gone."

"Which direction?" Tank demanded. "How long ago was this?"

"This all happened about a minute before you pulled up. I didn't see where they went, on account of I was inside on the stairs."

"Who were they?" I asked. "Did you recognize them?"

"Nu-uh. No clue."

"Were they wearing colors?" Tank asked.

I looked at him and then back to Lula, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah, they were gangers," Lula said. "One of 'em was wearing a ugly red bandana."

Red meant _Los Reyes_. Shit.

"Probably followed her from the bonds office," Tank muttered. He was choking the steering wheel so hard that I actually lay a hand on his forearm, encouraging him to let up. I worried he'd break something.

"Had you noticed anyone following you before today?" I asked.

"Nope. Didn't notice anyone this morning, either. Just this afternoon when I came home and was gettin' ready for you to come pick me up."

Tank and I exchanged glances, and Lula gave a huff from the backseat.

"What's with the look? You know something? You know who they are?"

"Maybe," I hedged.

"This have anything to do with why you've been laying low and not coming into the office, staying holed up with Batman someplace?"

"Maybe," I said again.

"So you gonna tell me, or what?"

I sighed. "Suffice it to say, they're not good guys, and neither are their intentions."

"Does this _also_ have anything to do with last week when we were prowlin' around upper Stark?" she asked. "I think I remember some ugly red bandana-wearing dudes when we were asking around about that chick who didn't know a cop from a dealer."

"Yep. They're looking for her, too. And they think I'll lead them to her. And now, apparently, they think _you_ _'ll_ lead them to her."

"Or at least to you," Lula guessed.

What a mess. "It might be a good idea for you to lay low for a few days. They obviously know where you live now, too. Do you have anywhere else you can stay?"

"She'll stay with me," Tank announced.

Lula looked surprised, but pleasantly so. "Sure. I guess I could do that."

He met her eyes briefly in the rearview mirror, and I swear I caught a ghost of a smile.

With that settled, I dug out my phone again and called Connie. I cautioned that she may notice some guys taking an interest in her, and if that happened, she should maybe get her cousin Arnie the Asshole to escort her to and from the office for the next few days. I also suggested that she make sure her Beretta was loaded and easily accessible.

"Being stalked is sort of exciting, but also sort of stressful," Lula said when I'd hung up. "I'm glad we're on our way to a sale, because I feel a need to shop. I need a new purse. And maybe some new shoes."

"You just bought a new purse when we saw Dougie last week," I pointed out.

"Yeah, and I had my eye on a couple more, and I'm still thinking about them. That's how I know if I really want something. If I don't buy it, but I still want it a couple days later, then that must mean I really want it."

There were at least a dozen cars parked at the Store-N-Save, which was about a dozen more than their parking lot usually saw on a Saturday afternoon. We all piled out of the SUV and followed a trail of handmade signs pointing us in the direction of the flash sale.

We turned a corner and found it. The doors were wide open on two storage garages, and both were packed with merchandise. Pallets sat like islands in the middle of the asphalt. Dougie and Lenny had also brought in a couple of rolling clothes racks to better display some of their wares.

I spotted Lenny manning a card table that served as a makeshift cash register. He had a line of three customers waiting to pay for their armfuls of merchandise. Dougie was chatting up a young guy who seemed to be considering one of the gaming systems. Other customers milled about, mulling various purchases.

"Oooh, I see rhinestones," Lula breathed. And she was off.

"Which one is your skip?" Tank asked.

I pointed toward Lenny. He looked up from his work and paled a bit when his gaze met mine. His eyes went wide. To his credit, he didn't let that stop him from ringing up Mr. Brand, whom I'd had for ninth grade history, for his toaster oven and frozen chicken breasts.

Dougie spotted me at the same time and waved. He spoke a few more words to the young guy, and then ambled over. "You made it! That's so rad."

"Yep. It looks like you've got a decent crowd so far."

"It's all thanks to Lenny's marketing, man. The guy's really been a lifesaver."

"What time do you think you'll close up shop for today?"

"If things keep going like this, about another hour," Dougie said. "We might be able to clear out the storage units. And that would be totally awesome, because the rent here has been cutting into our profit."

"Maybe next time you should keep your available inventory space in mind when you're acquiring new merchandise."

"For real. But what can I say, it was a windfall. It was, like, a gift from God."

I rolled my eyes. A gift from Roger Klueger, more like. Dougie was flagged down by another customer who had a question about a blender.

"Let me guess," Tank said. "All this shit 'fell off the back of a truck' someplace, right?"

"There was a hold-up of a Walmart shipment," I said. "Ranger and I brought in the culprit a couple days ago. I'm not sure how Dougie happened upon the merchandise, but I'm glad that he'll be rid of it soon, because apparently the guy who orchestrated the hold-up in the first place is a knife-wielding psycho. I'd hate to see Dougie gutted like a fish, or given a scar to match…"

Uh-oh. The scary dude with the scar. Who had a penchant for knives.

I'd heard about him twice over the past couple of days. I'd gotten a brief niggling feeling when Gabriella mentioned one of the guys who'd been stalking her _._ I'd dismissed it at the time, and given everything else she'd told us, I'd forgotten to revisit whatever had triggered my Spidey sense.

"Oh, shit."

Tank tensed and looked around, on high alert. "What?"

"I'm worried that there might be $20 million worth of cocaine hiding somewhere in all this." I gestured at the sale.

Tank's brow rose. "The same $20 million worth of cocaine that everybody and their cousin in Trenton is pissing their pants over?"

I walked a few paces away, so we wouldn't be overheard. I still kept my voice low. "The guy who held up the truck was hired by a 'scary dude with a scar'. Apparently he has a penchant for knives and likes gutting people. Yesterday, Gabriella told us that someone from _Par de Balos_ has been tracking her. A guy with a scar who carries a knife."

He pieced it together quickly. "You think the truck was carrying _Los Reyes_ _'s_ coke shipment, and that _Par de Balos_ orchestrated the hold-up to steal the drugs."

"But someone slipped up, and they lost the coke. Everyone's been busy chasing after Gabriella, hoping that she had it or knew who did, and no one has bothered looking anywhere else. The timing of Gabriella showing up was so convenient, no one stopped to think it could possibly be a coincidence."

"If all signs point to horse, it takes you awhile to think of a zebra."

A couple of customers had departed and a few more had arrived during the few minutes we'd been there. Were each of these people walking away with a stash of cocaine hidden somewhere in their purchases? What did $20 million worth of coke look like, anyway? How much was that?

"If you were trying to disguise cocaine in a shipment of consumer goods, where would you put it?" I asked.

Tank rubbed his forehead. "I've seen all kinds of sneaky shit. Could be packaged as sugar or flour. It could be hidden in fabric linings - coats, purses. I've even seen it disguised in bags of frozen soybeans."

My gaze fell on one of the pallets, stacked tall with purses. Lula looked like a coat rack, with multiple purses hanging off each arm. She held one out to me when I approached. "This one would go great with that slinky red dress you've got," she said.

"Can I see the bag you bought from Dougie last week when we were at his house?"

She thrust a bunch of bags into my arms so she could get at the one highest up on her shoulder. "I don't see any more of this one. It's a good thing I bought it when I did, seeing as I guess it was a hot seller."

"I'm sorry to say this, but I need to take a close look at it. I need to cut the lining a little and peek inside. Do you mind?"

She shrugged. "I've got some skills with a sewing machine. So long as you're careful and only cut at the seam, then I can fix it up pretty easy."

I handed the purse to Tank and he produced a knife from his cargo pants. It was only visible for a couple seconds before it disappeared again. He peeked inside and felt up the purse a little, then looked back up at me and shook his head. "It's clean."

"What are we looking for?" Lula accepted her bag back from Tank and peered inside.

"The gang guys who've started following us are looking for some missing cocaine," I told her quietly. "And I think it might be here somewhere in Dougie's inventory."

"Say what?" Her eyes bugged out a little. "Damn. That would've been an even better deal that I thought for this purse, if it came with a side of drugs."

I shushed her and gave her a pointed look.

"Not that I'm in the market for that," she clarified.

Half a dozen pallets surrounded us on the blacktop, and that wasn't including dozens more stacked up in U-shapes around the walls of the two storage units. They contained everything from clothes to electronics to appliances. Bags of chips. Candy. Everything my eyes landed on was a conceivable opportunity to conceal drugs. Who knew there were so many options?

I had an idea to cut right to the heart of the matter and slid my phone out of my pocket. Ranger answered on the first ring. "Everything okay?"

"We're good. We're at Dougie's flash sale," I told him. I had found a secluded corner for my conversation, but I still kept my voice low. "Had a quick question for you. If you were _Los Reyes_ and you were trying to sneak $20 million worth of cocaine into a Walmart truck, where do you suppose you'd hide it?"

Ranger processed that for a minute. "I assume your Spidey senses are telling you something about Dougie's merchandise?"

"Yep. I was wondering if our mutual friend might have any ideas, or if she could point us in the right direction."

"I'll call Santos and get him to ask her. I'll be in touch soon." He disconnected.

By the time he called back fifteen minutes later, I'd found a new pair of sneakers at a good price. I'd also chatted for a couple minutes with Eddie Garza, my good friend who also happened to be a uniform cop with the Trenton PD. He'd heard about the sale and stopped by to pick up a Playstation for his kids. Historically some of Dougie's best customers were off-duty cops. I really hoped that Eddie and the others weren't going to have to explain how they came to be in possession of Colombian cocaine.

"Gabriella had an answer for us," Ranger said. "She says that Valdez hides his drugs in wooden pallets. He apparently thought he was pretty clever for it. The thick boards that run along the sides of the pallet are hollow, and that's where you'll find the stash."

"Hold for processing," I told him. I meandered into the garage that had the fewest people in it and made my way over to a stack of pallets. Trying to look casual, I ran my hands along the pallet at eye level under the guise of inspecting the kitchen appliances in front of me. I rapped my knuckles against one of the pallets. Yep - confirmed. Hollow.

"What's your plan?" Ranger asked.

"Anonymous tip, I guess."

"Sounds good. Be careful." And he disconnected again.

Lula ended up purchasing four more bags and two pairs of shoes. Tank bought a few bags of frozen spinach and mixed berries. He made smoothies sometimes, he told us. I got the jeans, the sneakers, and a freaking toaster. Look at me, I'm practically a domestic goddess. Between the accidental drug bust and the toaster, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

When Dougie and Lenny finally closed up shop for the day, I suggested that they save themselves more space by donating all of the wooden pallets to me for a DIY project I had in mind. We hauled all of the pallets a few doors down to the end of the row of garages and stacked them in a shadowy corner. Tank helped them load up the rest of their inventory into Dougie's car, and when they were wrapping up, I approached Lenny.

"You know that I'm here to bring you to the station, right?"

"Yeah, I figured." He sighed. "Anyway, it was real cool of you to let me finish up the sale. Can I have a few more minutes to divvy up the proceeds with Dougie? Then you can take me in."

"I hate to break it to you, but court is closed for the day. We can get you bonded back out in the morning, but they're going to keep you at the station overnight."

"It's all good. It turns out that my brother's coworker's sister is a cop. My brother told her that we thought I'd be heading in tonight, and she said she'd do her best to get me a private holding cell. So I don't have to worry about being anybody's bitch."

"Oh. That's… good." I was at a loss for words. I supposed I should just be glad that he'd come to terms with what was going to happen. I'd get my $200, and everybody would be happy.

As I watched Dougie and Lenny split up the money from their cash box, it became abundantly clear that Lenny would have enough to bail himself back out. When they were done, I snapped my jaw closed and we all piled back into Tank's SUV for the drive to the station.

Tank kept a watchful eye on his mirrors the whole way there, and was confident that we hadn't yet picked up a tail. Still, he wouldn't let me walk Lenny into the station by myself - despite the fact that it was literally a building full of law enforcement - so we strolled in en masse. Once Lenny was processed and I had my body receipt, we trekked back out to the car. I let Lula take the front seat this time.

"I need to drive Stephanie back to Newark," Tank told her. "Do you want to come with, or want me to drop you at my house first?"

"I don't mind riding along. We gonna stop for some dinner someplace, right?"

Thankfully we were right on the tail end of rush hour, so it was a little over an hour later when we pulled into the driveway of the Newark house. The car ride had been a revelation. As it turned out, Tank could hold up his end of the conversation when Lula was on the other end.

His watchful eyes burned into my back while I made my way up the driveway, and he waited until I'd closed the front door behind me.

The house was dark except for a sliver of light emanating from under the door to the office. I flipped on the living room and kitchen lights, and set the bag with Ranger's sandwich on the kitchen island. I'd already eaten mine.

Within seconds, Ranger entered the kitchen. He was stretching his right arm across his chest, and he rolled his neck. His gaze swept over me, making sure I was in one piece, as was his habit. Then he honed in on the paper bag on the counter. "Dinner?"

"Roast beef on whole wheat."

He was looking at the bag with a certain longing that was usually reserved for more intimate moments. "Thanks."

"Long day?" I guessed.

"And not a ton to show for it." He didn't bother with a plate, just unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. He eyed me while he chewed. "You made a lot more progress than I did today. Nice job with the drug bust. How did it go?"

"I used the phone at the deli to call it in. Then Tank used the police scanner to confirm that the PD made it out there and that they found what we needed them to. Neither _Los Reyes_ or _Par de Balos_ will be getting their hands on the drugs, and I don't think they'll be able to trace anything to Dougie."

Ranger nodded while he chewed, already halfway through his sandwich. "And you took care of your skips?"

"Yep."

"Rent is taken care of?" he confirmed. "There's nothing else that you urgently need to do in Trenton?"

I shook my head. "I'm okay hanging out here for a couple more days, if that's what we need to do."

"The team I had assigned to your GPS tracker has finally been burned by _Los Reyes._ They know it's not you they've been following these past few days, so they'll be back on the hunt."

That made sense. That must be why they were trying other avenues now, including Lula. "Any chance that they'll back off once they get wind that the drugs have been found, and there's no chance of getting them back?"

"I expect that _Par de Balos_ will pull back. It was all about the drugs for them - it was just another attack on a rival cartel. They've thoroughly fucked up that plan, so they'll likely move on. They don't have a whole lot of stake in Gabriella. _Los Reyes_ , on the other hand, still want her found. They won't be quitting anytime soon."

And as it turned out, all of that was actually small potatoes compared to the larger issue Gabriella had presented us with. Ranger had spent the day working on untangling the knot of potential spies and traitors within his team, and apparently he didn't feel that much headway had been made. I sighed and plopped down onto a bar stool.

"I need to know if you're up for a field trip."

I raised my face from my hands to look at him. "I thought I'd still be under house arrest."

"I need to have a chat with the commander of Bravo team. He has access to the confidential personnel files of the other team members. Odds are, one of them is the traitor. I requested to look them over, see if anything jumps out. I could have Silvio hack into the necessary databases, but it would take longer than if I just go pick them up."

"So where are we going?"

He tossed his sandwich wrapper in the trash and then leaned back against the counter. "I'd really rather not drag you into this. But I'm not comfortable leaving you right now. And honestly, I could use your help. You have a tendency to see things that I don't."

"Are we going somewhere dangerous?"

He raised an eyebrow. "We're in the middle of an investigation involving one of Colombia's top drug kingpins, and a traitor on our own team. It's all dangerous."

"So where? Will we be in a third world jungle of some kind?" I was afraid that I hadn't packed the right clothes for that.

"More like a first world jungle."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means we're going to DC."


	18. Chapter 16

"Since I'm asking for your help with this shitstorm, there are probably some things you need to know."

Ranger's voice startled me out of my own quiet contemplations, and I perked up instantly. A sense of eagerness washed over me, not unlike the feeling of waking up on Christmas morning when I was six. But I tried to show some restraint. "I'd be happy to hear whatever you think I should know."

"There are six men on Bravo team, including me. I've worked with most of these guys for years, in various capacities. Even the newest guy has been with us for three years."

He kept his eyes straight ahead, on the road, but I could hear the meaning in his pause. It hurt for him to know that one of the men he'd worked alongside for so long was likely a traitor.

"We report to Commander Cordero. He used to be in my spot before he was promoted."

"And that's the guy we're going to meet?"

" _I_ _'m_ going to meet," he corrected. Yeah, yeah. We'd fight more about that later. "I moved up to One when Cordero joined the Tactical Operations Command. There are three other specialists attached to the team, who all work with TOC. Granger and Buchanan are our Logistics Specialists and DiGeorgio is our Engineer. And for the most part, we work with the same Intelligence Sergeant - Margeaux. She's our liaison to the CIA."

I decided to gloss over the CIA part for now. We'd come back to that. "And she's the only woman?"

"Yes."

"Great. So that narrows our suspect pool by one." I'd take it. One was better than nothing.

"I don't see our mole being anyone in TOC. The Specialists are supportive roles. They have a much more limited access to classified information, and often they don't know the details of an op until we're spun up. Cordero is validating this, but we don't think any of them have any knowledge of the Palmira capture mission yet."

"Obviously they can't tell Valdez what they don't know themselves." So that made things easier on the one hand, but harder on the other. That meant that the mole was one of the men that Ranger was closer to. "What about Cordero? Why isn't he on the the suspect list?"

"He has _too_ much access to classified intel. He and I are often the first to know about any mission. We plan them together, and we usually develop the prelim before we bring in the rest of the team. For example, he was the first to know when our agent inside _Los Reyes_ made contact with Gabriella and learned that she wanted out. We planned the staged kidnapping together."

"And if the traitor and Valdez were planning to ambush Bravo team, that would've been just as good an opportunity to do so as the Palmira mission."

Ranger nodded. "And that didn't happen."

A little ball of stress and worry clenched tight inside me. It had been there ever since the meeting with Gabriella. Every time I had to think about the fact that Ranger very well could have walked into a death trap in three weeks, the little ball grew spikes and got stabby. Sometimes it took me a second to catch my breath, and I had to remind myself that this was _Ranger_. He'd figure it out. And at least for the moment, he was letting me help a little.

"So you figure it's one of the six."

"I'm pretty confident that it's not me."

I rolled my eyes. "One of the five. Give me a break, math isn't my strong suit. So sue me."

"Don't worry. You have other strong suits."

I peered over at him and found him almost-smiling. That alone helped my ball of worry unclench a little.

I took a sip of my coffee and found it to be room temperature. Still serviceable. We'd been driving for nearly three hours already, and the coffee was two hours old. We'd left Newark at the crack of dawn, so it was still only 9 AM. Thank god it was Sunday, otherwise the traffic would've made me want to stick a fork in my eye. As it was, I only wanted to bang my head against a brick wall.

Ranger transcended traffic. He was beyond the ability to be upset by such trivial matters. He had one hand draped over the steering wheel while while the other arm rested on the middle console. The picture of ease. His posture conveyed his usual state of driving zen, only this time, he was talking.

Not sure where this newfound amenability and sharing of information was coming from, but I was going to push my luck and ask for more. "I've been wondering about something."

"Uh-oh."

"What uh-oh?" I demanded.

"You're either about to have a flash of genius that will make me feel like an idiot for not picking up on something sooner, or you're going to try to unpack more of my emotional baggage and I'll end up distracted and unable to focus on this meeting."

"Oh boy." The answer was maybe both. And I couldn't decide whether Ranger referencing his own emotional baggage, and therein recognizing that he had some, was refreshing or disconcerting.

"Out with it."

"I've been thinking about what Gabriella told us about Valdez's plan for Palmira," I started. "Why does he think that he could stand to gain anything by capturing some of you, rather than killing? Would Uncle Sam really negotiate with _Los Reyes_ to win back a couple of hostages?"

Ranger was quiet for a minute, and then he let out a slow, measured breath. "For civilians, probably not."

"But you're not civilian."

His silence was answer enough. I could practically hear a _click_ as one more piece of the puzzle slid into place. Why hadn't I put it together sooner? I'd always thought of Ranger as _ex_ -military. I'd thought of his extracurricular activities as mercenary, and not necessarily government-sanctioned. Turned out, I was wrong.

"So it was a little of both," Ranger mused.

"I don't think it took any particular genius on my part to put that together. And are you saying that you have emotional baggage related to being in the military?"

He laughed, dry and humorless. "Anyone who's been where I've been and doesn't have emotional baggage about it would be a psychopath."

My curiosity was nearly boiling over, but I doubted he'd let me push it much further. "What flavor of military are you?"

"Mystery flavor."

My eyebrows crept up. "Was that a joke?"

"A little one." He had tensed during our conversation, but I saw him making an effort to relax his jaw, his shoulders, and loosen his grip on the steering wheel. He reached over with his free hand to squeeze my knee.

I laid my hand on top of his. "Is this your way of saying that you're not going to answer?"

He flipped his hand underneath mine and tangled our fingers together. He was quiet for long enough that I thought that was the end of the conversation and was all I was going to get.

Then he surprised me. "Right now I'm National Guard."

My eyebrows shot up that time. "The _National Guard?_ _"_

"Yes." He eyed me warily, no doubt trying to process my disbelief.

"My cousin Corey is in the National Guard. He's also a satellite dish technician and lives in the suburbs." My frame of reference may not be relevant, but this was not computing for me. The National Guard seemed so far removed from the shadowy underground mercenary persona that I'd built up for Ranger in my mind.

"I haven't always been National Guard, but that's what I am now. I'm in the 20th Group. We're still Special Forces. We just do it part-time."

"So why all the cloak and dagger bullshit?" I burst. "This whole time, I thought you were some kind of top-secret ghost operative or something. Or at least a shady contractor."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!"

"Whether it's government-sanctioned or not, the dangers of what I do are still the same. Getting you dragged into this whole situation with Valdez proves that."

"Sorry to break it to you, but you don't get the credit for this one. If anything, I pulled _you_ into this. I'm the one who went after Gabriella. I would have been dead already if it wasn't for you. And I don't just mean last week when I got shot."

He chewed on that for a minute. "I'd say we're about even in this one."

I was reflecting back on all the conversations I'd had with Ranger about his 'other work'. The times he'd gone out of town, or into the wind. Had he played into my beliefs about who he was? Or had he just never corrected my assumption?

"Next thing I know, you'll be telling me that all those easy-come-easy-go black cars of yours are obtained through perfectly legal channels."

He tried to squash it, but I saw the smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Ohmigod," I groaned. "Don't tell me you pay out of pocket for those. I must've racked up over a million dollars in losses by now."

The smile turned full 200-watt. "One of Rangeman's first commercial security clients was a car dealership. He offered to pay for our services in trade - free vehicles whenever we needed them. Six months after I met you, I started to worry that I was going to drag his business under, so we renegotiated the deal. Now we just get the vehicles with a generous discount, rather than gratis."

"And now you're single-handedly keeping the business afloat!"

"My accountant considers you his arch-nemesis."

Great. That was just great. I turned to watch the scenery and heaved a sigh. Ranger was chuckling under his breath. Glad I could amuse him. Despite my best attempt at being grumpy, there was a little warm spot somewhere in my chest that was happy to hear him laugh.

I couldn't help but wonder about the catalyst for the influx of new information I'd been receiving. Why was Ranger suddenly in a chatty mood? Was Mercury in retrograde? Did he feel that he owed me answers, since he believed he'd gotten me involved in the mess with Gabriella and Valdez?

At his parents' house, I'd asked him why he never talked about his family, and his simple reply was that I'd never asked. Could that be true? Was it possible that I had just never dared to ask the right questions? Maybe because maintaining the mystery that surrounded Ranger helped me keep our relationship more neatly confined to the box I'd put it in?

The past week had been a whirlwind in a lot of ways, and I'd had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. There wasn't a lot of time for mulling things over, and therefore not a lot of time to linger in Denial Land when things were too scary to dwell on. I could admit that I was sometimes less-than-honest with myself about my own thoughts and feelings. My newfound philosophy, along with eating dessert first, was that sometimes it was easiest to just rip the bandaid off. Now that I was being more honest with myself, I suppose I was expecting more honesty from others, too. And so I was asking for it. And in Ranger's case, he was doing his best to give it to me.

Ask, and you shall receive. Huh. Go figure. Who knew it might be so simple?

###

"May I please come with you?" I'd already tried bullying my way into Ranger's meeting with Cordero, so I figured I'd try the polite route.

"No." Ranger shrugged into a perfectly-tailored black blazer.

There goes the power of ask and receive. I tried a guilt trip instead. "You said I could help."

"You can. By looking over the team's files and reviewing their histories."

"I can do more than that."

He took a seat at the edge of the bed that I was reclining on. "I know you can. But I also don't want to pull you further into this than you already are. It's a needless risk."

"You said that you trust your commander. He's not on the list of suspects. Where's the risk?"

"I trust him professionally, but that doesn't mean I trust him with my… you."

I didn't bother pointing out that, for someone in Ranger's line of work, putting professional trust in someone meant trusting them with his life. Surely he understood the dynamics, but he also apparently saw some sort of invisible line that I was unaware of.

"But I don't even have a babysit- I mean, bodyguard. You're suddenly okay with leaving me all alone in a strange city?"

I could tell by Ranger's raised eyebrow that I'd gone a step too far. I'd laid on the guilt trip too thick, and he was onto me. "It's the strange city part that I'm fine with. _Los Reyes_ aren't going to find you here."

"You really expect me to just kick back in this swanky hotel and gorge myself on room service?"

"What you do while you're here is your choice. All I ask is that you stay. Here." He punctuated his words with a hard stare that did its best to pin me to the headboard.

The thought of being pinned to the headboard by Ranger had me slightly distracted. He must have read me like a book, as usual, because he gave me a small smile and leaned down for a kiss. I slid my hand to the back of his neck and deepened it.

When he finally drew away, I had the satisfaction of hearing him pull in a slightly unsteady breath. But then it was right back to business. "We're meeting nearby. I'm walking, so you'll have the car in the unlikely event anything does go wrong and you need it."

I kept up a charade of reluctant obedience while Ranger said his goodbyes. This might be a really stupid plan, but my curiosity could not be denied. I also had an insatiable need to be useful. The little ball of worry in the pit of my stomach didn't love the idea of Ranger being alone in this.

We'd checked into a nice hotel in the heart of the city and were assigned to the seventh floor. Our room was five rooms down from the elevator. Once Ranger closed the door behind him, I counted to thirty in my head and then I leaped off the bed. I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, making sure it contained my stun gun and my new can of defense spray. I left the baby Glock in the room's safe, figuring the last thing I needed was to be arrested for illegally carrying a gun that I had no realistic plans to use.

Once I verified that the coast was clear, I hurried to the elevator. The tricky part was going to be to time this right so Ranger didn't get too far ahead of me, but was far enough that he didn't spot me.

Luck was on my side. The elevator doors opened into the lobby right in time for me to glimpse Ranger exiting through the main door. I followed at an unhurried pace and made it to the front sidewalk as he turned the corner at the end of the block. Perfect.

I trailed him at a distance for a few blocks before I ran into trouble. It was the lunch hour, and the streets of DC were flooded with bureaucrats and politicos and various other worker bees. A gaggle of suits walked out of a building right in front of me and flooded my field of vision. By the time I emerged on the other side of the crowd, Ranger was nowhere in sight.

Damn. Lost him. The street was lined with restaurants, bars, and cafes. Probably he'd ducked inside one of them right when I wasn't looking. I decided I'd continue down the street and peer inside the windows. If I could spot him, I still stood a chance of getting a look at Cordero. That was really my primary goal - getting a look at the guy, and being there for Ranger in case he ended up needing backup. I was no Tank, and the kind of backup I offered was more along the lines of corroborative witness rather than extra gun. Still, I felt better about Ranger having me as backup versus having no one.

I'd almost reached the end of the block and hadn't been able to spot him inside any of the buildings. It was probably a longshot anyway, but I was at least going to try. I was about to cross the street and do the same reconnaissance on the other side while I headed back in the direction of the hotel. But right before I peeled away from the building to head toward the crosswalk, a hand wrapped around my wrist and I was pulled off my path.

My assailant nearly pulled me off my feet, but I came to land with my back against the wall of an alley, pinned by a hard body. I opened my mouth to scream and simultaneously jerked my knee up, aiming for the groin. The body turned so my knee glanced off their hip, and a hand pressed over my mouth. I would've screamed anyway, except when I drew in my breath, I caught the scent of Bulgari. That was at the same time that my assailant praised me. "Nice try, Babe."

Okay, so it was sort of backhanded praise. I'd still take it.

Ranger backed off enough to look down at me and shake his head. Tough to say whether he was amused or exasperated. Probably a little of column A and a lot of column B.

"This is your fault, you know," I told him.

He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head. Ready to be enlightened.

"You should know by now that you can't tell me things like 'stay put'. You had to expect that I was going to do the opposite." I knew I was being petulant. My pride was a little wounded. Not only at being caught, but at being caught off-guard and nearly yanked off my feet. He could've called me out a little less dramatically.

He tried giving me a hard stare, but I only shook in my boots for about ten seconds until I noticed his mouth twitching at the corners. "You're right. I do sometimes underestimate you."

"I want to be your backup. I can be sneaky," I insisted. "And I'm good at playing dumb."

"Sneaky, maybe. But you're not as good as you think you are at acting dumb. You're too observant for your own good. It tips people off. Especially a man like Cordero."

"Just let me observe from a distance, then. I'll sit in a corner and have a muffin. You won't even know I'm there."

"Doubtful."

"Try me."

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting at a corner table with a half-eaten blueberry muffin and a quickly-melting caramel mocha iced latte. The lunch of champions.

Ranger had positioned himself so that he could keep me and the door visible at the same time. He sat four tables away, across the cafe. The man sitting with him was about the same height as Ranger, and about thirty pounds heavier. Not fat, but definitely sturdy. His skin was a shade or two lighter than Ranger's, and his hair was shorter. He carried himself with purpose and kept his movements efficient. He'd arrived about ten minutes ago, shaken Ranger's hand brusquely, and pulled his chair to the side of the table so the main entrance wasn't at his back.

I was feeling a little silly for elbowing my way in. Obviously, Ranger was completely capable of taking care of himself. The entire situation was out of my depth. I knew I wasn't going to be helpful in replanning the capture mission or taking down Valdez. I suppose I just wanted to feel as valuable as possible, in whatever way I could. And since I was there, I figured I may as well -

Uh-oh.

Cordero was looking at me.

My gaze collided with his for one awful moment before I quickly looked away. Then I sneaked a peek back at him to see if - yep, still looking at me.

I glanced behind me to see if there might be something that had caught his attention. Not unless he was enamored with the painting of the coffee bean roasting process.

My eyes flew to Ranger's, and he was shaking his head again. He lifted his hand and crooked his fingers at me, waving me over.

Slowly, somewhat unsteadily, I got to my feet. I quickly decided it would be more embarrassing to walk over there with my muffin, so I left it on the table. With my messenger bag over my shoulder and my melting latte in my hand, I approached. Ranger nudged an empty chair next to him with his foot, and I took a seat.

"You've been made," he told me.

In the absence of appropriate etiquette for this scenario, I stuck out my hand to Cordero. "Hi. I'm Stephanie. It's nice to meet you."

He cracked a smile and accepted my handshake. His grip made my bones creak. "Tim Cordero."

"Stephanie is the Bond Enforcement Agent who stumbled over Gabriella when she got herself arrested in Trenton," Ranger explained. "She's also currently working as a contractor with Rangeman. I'm going to have her review the team's personnel files. She has a sharp eye for fleshing out motive and opportunity."

Cordero's eyebrows creeped up. "She has the required clearance for that?"

"Yes."

All of that was news to me, but probably it was best to go with the flow. Cordero scrutinized me with a shrewd gaze for several beats. I felt a little like a deer in headlights but forced myself to maintain eye contact. Finally he visibly relaxed, apparently having deemed me not a threat. This was one of those times when I was glad to be filed in the 'non-threatening' category.

He offered another smile that warmed his eyes to the shade of honey. "Hell, we'd be stupid to turn down the extra pair of eyes. Keep me posted on what you find."

"Will do," Ranger said. "And you'll make contact with Kirsch?"

"Sure hope the kid can pull off a miracle."

"He'll give us something we can work with."

"You seem pretty confident," he told Ranger. Then he leaned toward me conspiratorially. "Guess I shouldn't expect anything less from this guy, right?"

Ranger crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "I worked with Kirsch once before. Briefly, but it was enough. When he knows what's at stake, he'll find a way to make it happen."

"When did you work with him?"

"Classified."

Cordero leaned back to mimic Ranger's posture. He gave him a _'get real'_ look. "You know my clearance."

"Yes. Still classified."

Cordero's eyes narrowed ever so slightly while he silently considered Ranger. Then he shrugged. "Okay. So you know Kirsch. How long will it take him to identify an alternate opportunity for us?"

"I expect you'll have a couple of options in-hand within the week of when you make contact."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Want to put your money where your mouth is?"

Ranger smiled. "Sure. Fifty bucks?"

"What's wrong, is private security not paying well these days?"

"Fine. A hundred."

"Deal." Cordero pushed his chair back and stood. Ranger stayed seating, so I did, too. "I'll plan to connect with Kirsch ASAP. Let me know what you come up with on your side."

"Roger that."

Cordero nodded to me. "Stephanie. Next time we meet, I hope it's under better circumstances."

"Likewise," I told him.

Although I watched him walk out the door of the cafe, he immediately blended into the crowded sidewalks. He was gone.

"You got what you needed?" I asked Ranger.

"Got it." He touched his chest, over his inside jacket pocket.

Ranger steered me out of the cafe and down the sidewalk with a hand at my back. I wondered if we did the cool disappearing act, too. I had questions, but I took my cue from Ranger and Cordero, who had seemed to carefully avoid any mention of Valdez or other easily identifiable discussion topics while we were in public. When we got back to the room, though, all bets were off.

Ranger kicked off his boots and removed his gun, adding it to the safe next to mine. His and hers. How nice.

"Who is Kirsch?" I asked.

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it in the closet, but not before fishing the little flash drive he'd gotten from Cordero out of the pocket. "Zack Kirsch. He's the man we have embedded in _Los Reyes_ who's working his way up to Valdez's inner circle."

"The spy?"

"We prefer the term Human Intelligence."

"I forgot about him," I admitted. "If you have a spy in _Los Reyes_ , then why did we have to learn about the this ambush plan from Gabriella? Why didn't this Kirsch guy tell us? Could he be the traitor?"

Ranger shook his head. "He's not the mole. He doesn't have enough intel. For the most part, he's not filled in on Bravo team's missions. We're working on the same goal - to take down Valdez - but we're coming at it from different angles. He knew about the Gabriella op, but he doesn't know yet about Palmira."

I was starting to see the benefit of some of this classified intel stuff. It was easy to rule someone out as a potential mole when they didn't have access to the information that was leaked.

"Besides, Kirsch isn't in Valdez's inner circle yet," Ranger continued. "He's essentially middle management in the _Reyes_ _'s_ hierarchy. He didn't warn us about the ambush that Valdez is inviting all his best people to, which means he must not have been invited. Valdez doesn't trust him yet. He's only been embedded for a couple of years."

"So what is Cordero contacting him about?"

"We need him to help us find a new time and location to capture Valdez. Sometime in the next couple weeks, before he leaves for Palmira."

I tried to choose my words carefully. "How likely is that to happen?"

"Valdez is a ghost. A shadow. Over the years, he's gotten so good at hiding that it's become second nature to him. You saw how good Gabriella was at not being found, and that was after just a few years of living with Valdez. It's going to be nearly impossible," Ranger confirmed. "Luckily, that's what our team specializes in."

I took a seat on the edge of the bed while Ranger sat in the chair at the desk and booted up his laptop. "Cordero apparently doesn't think he can do it. He bet against him."

"That's just Cordero. He bets on everything."

"Even against the people who are supposed to be on his side?"

"It's nothing personal against Kirsch," Ranger said. "Cordero may be a gambler, and he's impulsive, but that also makes him a good leader for a team like Bravo. He's decisive, and he doesn't shy away from taking calculated risks."

"You respect him."

"Yeah. I do."

Ranger's respect had to be earned, so I figured there was a story there. I wasn't confident that he'd be willing to share it, but then again, he'd been surprisingly forthcoming lately. Couldn't hurt to ask.

"Why?"

He stuck the flash drive into his laptop and pulled up the folder on his screen. He glanced through the contents and I was about to believe that the conversation was effectively over, but then he turned back to me. "I told you that Cordero used to be in my place."

"So he was Bravo One and you were, what? Bravo Two?" I wasn't sure if that was how it worked, but Ranger nodded.

"I joined Bravo team about five years ago. I'd just come off some other contracts that were… well, as you would put it, more of the 'cloak and dagger bullshit'. The first mission I ever worked with Cordero was a recovery. Do you remember me telling you that things heated up between the US government and _Los Reyes_ when they killed an undercover DEA agent?"

I suppose I had a vague recollection of something to that effect, but I'd learned an awful lot over the past week, and that wasn't something that stuck out. I nodded anyway.

"The agent's handler was captured, too. His name was Jason Delgado. _Los Reyes_ had him in their clutches, and they wanted to negotiate. They'd already killed one US agent, which they felt justified in because he was a spy. They knew they'd be in even deeper shit if they killed another. So they agreed to hand him back over, but we had to send one man and one man only to retrieve him."

"You went in alone?"

"Not me. Cordero. He insisted that it was him or no one. He refused to let any of his men go in alone. Nevermind the fact that I'd done this sort of thing a dozen times or more in my past. He wouldn't hear of it."

I had to admit that Cordero was starting to earn some of my respect, too. I had hated to think of Ranger going to the damn coffee shop this afternoon without backup. The thought of him walking into a drug lord's lions den alone didn't sit well with me.

" _Los Reyes_ even used a device that jammed our comms systems. Cordero had no way to communicate with us, or us with him, once he went in. But he got the job done. He recovered Delgado and we all lived to see another day."

"It must suck for him to know that one of the men he went out on a limb for, one of the men he refused to put in harm's way, is now selling out the team to the enemy."

Ranger expelled a breath. "It sucks for all of us."

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"There's something I must be missing. Right now, I can't picture any one of those men being willing to stab the rest of us in the back."

"We'll find him," I promised. "Let me at those files. Money, jealousy, revenge - someone will have a motive. It'll lead us to our guy."

"That's part of what I'm struggling with. No one is in this for the money," he explained. "Military careers don't pay that well. We do what we do because we can. You have to believe in the cause, and you have to believe that you are uniquely capable of doing whatever needs to be done. And for those of us in Special Forces, it usually runs deeper than that. It's a compulsion. You do this work because there's no way you could see yourself doing anything else."

"Then why are you leaving?" I was almost afraid to ask, because I didn't want him to question his decision. I was looking forward to that conversation on December first. But I had to know, because my picture of 'someday' didn't involve hitching myself to someone whose passion lay elsewhere.

I listened to his deep, slow breaths for nearly a minute before he answered. "I started seeing myself doing something else. Wanting to _be_ something else. But some areas of the military, when you're as deep as I was… it's not a job that you can just up and quit."

"How so?"

"It takes time and effort and a lot of willpower to extricate yourself. I've had to do some bargaining, make some deals. This National Guard contract was the last of many that I didn't have the luxury of saying no to. The last stepping stone on my way out. December first is the first opportunity I'll have to say no, and I'm going to. It's been a long time coming."

"How long have you been working your way out?"

Another few beats of silence greeted me. I didn't know if he was counting the months or avoiding an answer, until he spoke. "Since Scrog."

I absorbed that. Edward Scog was a very scary, very screwed up guy who had kidnapped Ranger's daughter, and then me, and then ultimately had shot Ranger and nearly killed him. And that was several years ago.

"That's when you started wanting to be something else?"

"Scrog made me take stock of my priorities. And I realized that they weren't the same as they used to be."

I could understand where he was coming from, since I'd recently reevaluated my own life choices. And I couldn't pretend that I wasn't glad to hear that Ranger's priorities may not be as far off from mine as I'd originally thought.


	19. Chapter 17

The amount of information and access I had to the lives of several men who were previously complete strangers was crazy scary. When Ranger had told me we'd be reviewing his team's personnel files, I'd imagined a file folder that would maybe include a resume and their service history. But in reality, the flash drive that Ranger had procured from Cordero gave us _so_ much more.

We had access to everything from detailed background checks, to school transcripts, to marriage licenses, to bank statements, to satellite images of all known residences. The flash drive was the key that unlocked it all, and Ranger used the super special secret programs on his laptop to decrypt the information. He put all of the information on an iPad for me, promising that it was secure.

The files contained information on _all_ team members, including not only the five who were in the field with Ranger, but also Cordero, the three specialists who worked in command with him, and for Margeaux Dennison, Intelligence Sergeant.

The folder labeled 'Ricardo Carlos Manoso' taunted me. It felt sneaky to use the opportunity to look through Ranger's background, but the curiosity was nearly overwhelming. I'd opened it to the first page while I fought the urge to look any further.

The top of the page read: Ricardo Carlos Manoso, aka Carlos Manoso, aka Ranger, aka Juan Valencia, aka The Undertaker, aka Marc Pardo, aka Diego Serrano, aka Rodrigo Vergara. My eyes nearly fell out of my head and I quickly closed out of the file. Probably there were things in there that Ranger didn't want me to know, and maybe they were things I also wasn't ready to know. Like why he was apparently sometimes known as The Undertaker.

I was almost done reviewing the last of the five files we were focused on when Ranger pushed his chair back from the desk and scrubbed his hands over his face.

"Ready to compare notes?" I asked.

"If we must." He was in a foul mood, and I couldn't blame him. He'd grown increasingly restless over the past several hours. I couldn't imagine how it must feel to be hunting for a traitor among a group of men he'd placed trust in. Perhaps even considered friends.

"Who wants to go first?"

"I want to hear from you."

I took a steady, bracing breath. "From an outsider's perspective, it's not really that hard to believe that any of these guys could take a turn to the dark side. Some of them have already been there."

Ranger didn't seem surprised by that assessment. "The missions you get in Special Forces don't exactly bring out the best in anyone."

I wanted to ask him about what they'd brought out in _him_ , but I managed to control myself. Just. "But then again, their military careers are impeccable. Even though a lot of the reports have pieces redacted, I don't need the missing pieces to be able to tell that each of these guys are basically heroes in their own right."

"The military takes great care to weed out the ones who are in it for nothing more than the chance to legally blow shit up." He stretched his arms behind his head. "These men have all proven themselves. If you'd asked me a week ago, I would've said there was no way in hell that any of them would ever betray the team."

"I'm sorry," I said again.

He just gestured for me to continue. "What do you think?"

I sighed. "My top pick would be Dante."

Ranger nodded. He didn't say anything else, but I could see that his jaw was clenched tight.

"The way I see it, there have been two incidents over the past three years that, in hindsight, could be attributable to a mole passing team information onto Valdez. And that's not including the Palmira op."

He ran his hand over his face again. "Yes. Esquivel and Saavedra. I agree, it's very likely that both of those were situations where _Los Reyes_ was tipped off ahead of time. And I never saw it."

"You couldn't have," I assured him. "There's nothing about either scenario that couldn't just as easily have had other explanations. They still could - we don't know for sure."

"Tell me what you see."

"The report from the night Frederico Esquivel died in custody indicates that Dante was scheduled for guard duty at Esquivel's holding cell from 21:00 to 05:00. But at 23:17, a small team of _Los Reyes_ infiltrated the compound, managed to get the drop on Dante and knock him out cold, and kill Esquivel," I recapped. "I'm assuming Esquivel must have had some information that Valdez and _Los Reyes_ really didn't want you to have."

"You assume right."

"The part of the report explaining how Esquivel died was one of the pieces that was redacted."

"He was discovered hanging in his cell by a noose made of his bedsheets."

I winced. Probably I hadn't needed to know that. "And no one was ever able to definitively say how it happened?"

Ranger shook his head. "We know that at least two men from _Los Reyes_ broke into the compound. They weren't discovered until they were on their way out. They refused to drop their weapons, so they were killed. By that time, Esquivel was already dead, and Dante was out cold on the floor. Brunt force trauma to the head. They were quiet about it."

The report had mostly said the same thing, and unfortunately the added context from Ranger didn't do anything to alleviate my suspicion. "Esquivel and _Los Reyes_ all knew that having Esquivel in the hands of the US government was too risky. He knew too much. So they arranged for Esquivel to have the opportunity to do his duty to the cartel and make sure they would never get any information from him. And there's no evidence that rules out the possibility that the whole thing was staged by Dante."

"Agreed." It was obvious that he loathed to agree with the theory, but there was no denying its plausibility. "What else?"

"The Saavedra operation is a lot less clear to me. It seems like anyone could have spilled the beans on that one, based on the way things turned out."

"Saavedra was small potatoes compared to Esquivel, but he was in charge of _Los Reyes_ ' _s_ distribution networks. A successful capture would've effectively crippled their drug sales, at least for a short time while a replacement emerged. We got intel about his routes, and we made a plan to cut his vehicle off and snatch him. It was supposed to be a quick, clean capture."

It hadn't turned out that way. Apparently Saavedra's vehicle didn't take the expected route, despite the fact that all of the intelligence gathered over the course of several months indicated that he _always_ followed the same path, at the same time. Like clockwork. Except for that night.

"In hindsight, it seems obvious that he was tipped off," I said. "But it's not obvious to me who could have done it."

"What if I told you that every man on the team advocated to scrap the operation, except for Alex?"

I weighed that. Slowly nodded. "Alex was already my number two suspect. Far behind Dante, but maybe this moves him up in the pack."

"What else did you pick up on?"

"Nothing, really. That was only based on the fact that he was the newest member of the team, and that he joined only a couple months before the Esquivel thing."

"I thought about that, too. You saw in the report that I recommended we scrap the Saavedra mission, once we realized that he wasn't following his typical routine. I wanted to regroup and try again later. Saw it as an unnecessary risk - if he was supposedly so reliable, then we could get him on another night. No need to go in on the one night that he wasn't being consistent."

"And Alex disagreed?"

"At the time, I chalked it up to eagerness and adrenaline. Newer guys can be like that. They get a little blood lust going on, or tunnel vision. They want to finish the mission at all costs. The rest of us were more seasoned. Ultimately, Cordero called for us to proceed. You know what happened from there."

The new route wasn't the only thing different about Saavedra's car that night. He also had twice as many men with him as usual, and they attacked Ranger and the team when they attempted the capture. Ultimately, Bravo team had had to retreat. Ranger and Pedro had both taken hits.

"There was also a thing with Alex during the Gabriella op," Ranger said.

"What sort of 'thing'?"

"He went dark. He'd gone in alone to scout the location, and he was off of his comms for about ten minutes."

"What does that mean?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe nothing. As we know, the Gabriella capture was still successful. There were no signs that Valdez or any of the guards were tipped off ahead of time."

"What do _you_ think?" I asked him. "Who's on your short list?"

"My list is the same as yours."

"What happens now?"

Ranger expelled a breath and closed his laptop. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "Kirsch will get back to us with some options for a revised capture opportunity for Valdez, and we'll need to pull together a new team to execute it."

"Will that be difficult to do? The new team part?"

"Not necessarily. I've been in touch with Margeaux, the Intelligence Sergeant that we work with. She has a lot of connections in various branches of the military and the alphabet agencies. She's going to help pull some people together."

"What does she have to say about this whole situation?"

"She's working things from her side. For now, we've decided the best path forward is to lay low. We don't want word to get back to the traitor that we're onto him, so we're keeping it quiet. As far as the rest of the team is concerned, we're still going to Palmira in three weeks."

Even though I knew it wasn't true, the little ball of worry in the pit of my stomach still didn't like that idea. "Intelligence, aka spying, is supposed to be her specialty. Isn't there anything else she can do to hurry this along? Shouldn't all of this be her job? Flushing out the traitor and dealing with them?"

"She's working on it. The mission - Valdez - is still the priority. I told her that Cordero is reaching out to Kirsch. She has some inroads with locals in Cali and the surrounding cities who can also be working behind the scenes. Even if Kirsch can't get us anything, Margeaux's sources might be able to."

He looked tired and frustrated. Not that I blamed him, but it was hard to see him that way. I scooted off the bed where I'd been reclining and made my way over to the desk. Ranger watched me while I sat down straddling his lap, and his hands landed on my hips to help balance me. There wasn't much room in the desk chair for both of us, but I didn't care. I wanted to be close to him.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled into his ear.

He pulled back to look at me. "You keep saying that. You don't need to apologize, Babe. I should be the one who's sorry for dragging you into all of this."

My hands kneaded his shoulders, responding to the tension under my fingers. "I just can't imagine how much it sucks to have to know that someone you trusted has betrayed you. Someone you probably considered a friend."

He tilted his head, giving me better access to the right side of his neck. I brought both my hands over to focus on the knot there. "Dante has always been my number two, and not just in title. I'm closer to him than any of the others. But I still wouldn't consider us friends. Comrades, yes. But we don't really know each other that well outside of the team. I trusted him in a way, yeah. And it sucks that now I can't. You're right about that."

Somehow that didn't make me feel much better. "If you're not close with your team, then who are you close with?"

His thumbs had found their way underneath my tshirt and were tracing circles on the bare skin at my waist. "Very few people."

That was pretty much what I'd expected. I was trying to come up with a way of articulating what I wanted to know without just coming right out and asking him whether he had friends. It felt important for me to know whether he had people in his life that he was close with, could share with, and who supported him. But it felt rude to ask.

"That seems like it could be a lonely way to live."

"Sometimes it has been," he admitted. "But that was years ago. It's better now. It's been awhile since I felt lonely."

Unable to help myself, I leaned down to brush my lips against his. "Good."

The kiss spurred Ranger into action. His hands slid down to my thighs. He stood, lifting me effortlessly. I clung to him while he took the few steps to the bed, where he set me back down. We untangled our limbs and he climbed onto the bed next to me. Then he turned his back to me and grabbed my wrist, bringing my hand back up to his shoulder.

"Could you keep doing that?" he asked softly.

I was only too happy to oblige. Although I'd been glad to help review the Bravo team personnel files, I was back to feeling pretty useless in this scenario. There was so much that was out of my hands. I knew Ranger was feeling the same, and it was a much more unusual situation for him to find himself in. While I may be used to feeling useless, Ranger definitely was not. He was accustomed to being in control, which made the circumstances we found ourselves in so much more frustrating for him.

This was one small thing I could do to alleviate some of his stress. Starting at the base of his neck, I slowly worked at his knotted muscles. When I made my way to his shoulders, I realized I could use more leverage. I grabbed the hem of his tshirt and pulled it over his head before urging him to lay down on his stomach.

Straddling his hips, I kneaded at the muscles of his shoulders, leaning some of my weight into it when I came across a particularly stubborn knot. Slowly but surely Ranger relaxed beneath me. I worked my way all the way down his back. All that expanse of warm skin and hard muscle had me squirming a little. His exhalations were getting to me, too.

Finally, when I couldn't hold back any longer, I lowered myself over his back and pressed my mouth to his skin. My lips traced the same path made by my hands; across his shoulder, to the back of his neck, and down the other side. When I nipped him at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and then soothed my tongue over the spot, that was the last straw for Ranger.

In an impressive feat of physics or engineering or magic, he somehow managed to flip over underneath me. He wasted no time in grasping the back of my neck and pulling my mouth to his. The kiss started languorously, but it stoked the flames of my desire regardless. I squirmed again, craving some friction against the part of Ranger that was the opposite of relaxed. His fingers tightened in my hair while his other hand cupped my butt, pressing me tighter against him.

In that moment, there was no such thing as _Los Reyes_. Valdez didn't exist, and there definitely wasn't a Special Forces-trained traitor running loose within the US military. I made a conscious decision to push all of those things from my mind and focus only on the here and now. With Ranger. It wasn't denial; it was simply appreciation.

While we stripped each other of our clothes, I couldn't help but think about the other ways we'd been lain bare over the past few days. Events had been unfolding one after another at a rapid-fire pace, and I'd hardly had a chance to stop and think about what had transpired. Only three days after I'd called it quits with Morelli, I'd basically handed Ranger an engraved invitation to audition for the role of Mr. Stephanie Plum. The biggest shock of the entire week was when he hadn't run for the hills.

And all of that was nothing compared to the revelations of the past several hours. Ranger was giving me unprecedented access to areas of his life that had previously been completely off-limits. Obviously I wondered about the catalyst for his new propensity for sharing information, but I wasn't about to question him. Although there were surely still things in his past that would shock me, I was loving the opportunity to unwrap more and more of him, like a present. The best kinds of gifts were unexpected and out-of-the-blue.

Looking up into his eyes as he pushed me down to he mattress and covered my body with his own, I had a fleeting thought of how long his transparency would last. But then he was kissing me again, so I shoved that thought into a dark corner and resolved to stick to my here-and-now philosophy.

###

We ordered room service for a late dinner. After the orgasms and then the cheeseburger, I was completely sated. I was pretty much a pile of goo. There was an old western movie playing on the television, but it wasn't enough for me to keep my eyes open. Ranger was sitting up with his back to the headboard, scrolling through emails on his phone. My head was in his lap, and his free hand was stroking up and down my bare arm, occasionally detouring to run through my hair. I was struggling to hold on to consciousness for a few more minutes just so I could continue to enjoy this.

"Did you read my file?"

Ranger's question pulled me back from the brink of sleep. "Hmm?"

"My personnel file. Did you read it?"

I dragged my eyelids open and blinked a few times to get my vision to focus. Then I realized that I was looking at his feet, so I turned my head so I could see him looking down at me. It took me a couple more seconds to process his question before I could answer. "No."

"Why not?" His fingertips were continuing their unhurried path up and down my arm. Spreading goosebumps and then chasing them away with each pass.

I took in a breath to answer and it came back out in a sigh. A pile of goo shouldn't be expected to answer such complicated questions, but I tried. "It didn't seem right."

He remained quiet. Contemplating. His unyielding gaze on me was both comforting and disconcerting.

"You've told me before that there are things I don't know about you," I reminded him. "I know that's true. But I also assume that if you want me to know those things, you'll tell me yourself. Someday. And that's how I'd prefer to learn about them. Not from some cold, clinical dossier."

He considered my answer for a few more beats. "Did Anita or anyone say anything to you when we were at my parents' house?"

"About what?"

"Me. My past."

I shook my head, and then realized that it was hard to have this conversation when looking at him upside down, so I sat up. "No. There was a moment in the kitchen when your mom seemed like she was alluding to something, but nothing specific. And there were a couple times when I felt like Anita was being a little coy. But no one said anything in particular about you."

"Anita has been pestering me via text for the past couple of days," he said. "She thinks I need to tell you the story of when I went to live with my grandmother."

"When you stole a car, went to juvie, and then moved to Miami?"

He nodded.

"Isn't… that the story?" I asked, confused.

He shook his head.

Okay. Was this going to be a game of twenty questions? "Why does Anita think you need to tell me about it?"

Ranger thought about that for a minute. "Because she realizes that we love each other."

My heart did a little pitter-pat. I had an almost overwhelming urge to say those words to him again, but I refrained. I didn't want to deter him from the path he was headed down.

"So what do _you_ think I need to know?" I asked instead.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him. Although I couldn't see his face anymore, I had a feeling that may be intentional, so I went willingly.

"Her name was Ana," he began, and my breath immediately caught in my throat. "She was my first girlfriend. Possibly my only girlfriend. We'd grown up together, and we started 'dating', such as it were, when we were twelve."

He paused, but I didn't dare say anything. I was still holding my breath. The moment felt fragile, as if the air between us was about to crack into a million fragments.

"She had a brother who was two years older. He helped take care of her, since her parents weren't always around. She idolized him, and I did, too. He was a member of a two-bit local gang that called themselves Lobos. I wanted to impress him. Back then I was small. I was still learning how to be scrappy, but I had sneaky mastered. So I played to my strengths, and started stealing a couple cars."

There was a heavy feeling growing in my chest. I dreaded where this was going. I knew about the stolen car and the fact that Ranger had ended up in juvenile detention, but I was unsure where Ana or her brother fit into it all. I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

But Ranger forged on anyway. "There was a rival gang called the Z's. There was some personal beef between Ana's brother and this specific Z named Troy. I don't think I ever knew what it was; I don't remember. But somehow I found out that Troy hung out at a local gang house every Friday night, and I hatched a plan to steal his car while he was occupied.

"I took Ana with me, because I wanted to show off. We got caught, and I pulled into an alley long enough for us to ditch the car and run. But the cop was catching up, so I sent Ana ahead and I stayed behind to face him."

"You took the fall."

"It was my idea. I'd pulled her into it."

Pulled her into it… that sounded familiar. My heart sank a little more. "What happened?"

"I got a few months in juvie. I thought that made me pretty tough shit." He gave a laugh and shook his head. "The center was full of wannabe gang bangers, and I bragged to every one of them I could find. There were these three Lobos who were about sixteen to seventeen. They asked me how I'd managed to snatch Troy's car, and I told them about the house. A week later, those guys were out. I hadn't realized they were coming up on parole. A week after that, on a Friday night, Lobos executed a drive-by shooting of that house. Seven people - kids - died that night."

I took a slow, shallow breath. "Troy?"

Ranger nodded and shifted me in his arms again so he could look at me. "And Ana."

My heart plummeted like a stone into the pit of my stomach. "What? How?"

"Apparently she'd taken up with dating one of the Z's when I was put away. A sixteen-year-old kid named Mikhail. He took a bullet in the leg that night, but he lived."

I had no words. They were all so young, and it was so awful. It didn't take a genius to understand that Ranger would have blamed himself. Perhaps a part of him still did. Since I had nothing better to say, I gave him the words that were as cliche as they were true. "It wasn't your fault."

He took in a breath and let it out, slow and controlled. "I know. There wasn't a gun in my hand that night. It wasn't my idea. I just presented them with the opportunity."

"You were just a kid."

"We all were," he agreed. "I was a dumb kid who compensated for my size by mouthing off. I had no sense of the weight or impact of my words. Until that night. When six kids, plus Ana, paid the price for my words and for the people I associated with."

My hands wrapped around Ranger's bicep. I just needed to be touching him. Puzzle pieces were clicking all over the place. I swallowed hard, unsure what to say.

"I blamed myself for a long time," he continued. "I'd like to say that I cleaned up my act after that, but the reality is that I spiraled for a few more years. My abuela did her best to keep me on the straight and narrow, but ultimately all she really accomplished was keeping me out of jail and ensuring I graduated high school. Both of which were minor miracles on their own. I'd realized by my senior year of high school that I didn't love the trajectory my life was on, so I started to straighten out enough to get into college. When it turned out that wasn't for me, the Army seemed like a solid option."

"I'm grateful that you told me this," I started, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. I had my suspicions, but I needed to know. "But why? Why now?"

"I needed you to understand why it's hard for me to get close to people." He reached up to tuck an errant curl behind my ear. "And why I'm occasionally an overbearing asshole when it comes to things that I think are dangerous to your wellbeing."

"I can understand that," I said carefully.

"I don't know if you do." He paused to read something on my face. "It would break me if anything ever happened to you. Especially if it were because of me and the shit I've chosen for my life."

"But you also have to understand that everyone makes their own choices," I argued. "Myself included. And you don't have the luxury of controlling those choices, or their consequences."

"I know that. But I -"

I placed my hand over his mouth. "I'm not done."

He raised his eyebrows at me for a moment, but finally nodded. I removed my hand.

"I've thought a lot about this over the past couple of days, and while I somehow doubt this will be surprising to you, I've decided that I'm going to keep working for Vinnie. For now."

"I figured."

"We all know I'm not the world's best bounty hunter." Ranger opened his mouth, whether to agree or to argue was anyone's guess, but I didn't let him do either. I cut him off with a pointed look. "But I've decided to put a little more effort into it. I assume the offer of Rangeman training resources still stands?"

"You know it does."

"Good. I've made a promise to myself that I'm going to work harder at getting a little better, both for my safety and for my sanity. And now I'm making that same promise to you."

"Babe, you're a better bounty hunter than you give yourself credit for."

"And you're way less responsible for any danger I find myself in than you give _your_ self credit for."

"You say that as we're sitting in a strange city, up to our ears in shit from my line of work."

"I need to know that I can trust you to trust _me_. Trust me to take care of myself. If I stick with this, then I'm still going to wander into some trouble now and again. I can guarantee it."

"No doubt," he agreed.

"I need to know if you can handle that." I studied him carefully, looking for the answer on his face. Of course, I didn't find it. "It's taken me awhile to realize that, in my picture of 'Someday', I need for there to be a trade-off. I don't want to be the one who's always waiting at home to greet my person at the end of the day. Sometimes I might want someone waiting for _me_. Whether it was a great day or a shitty one, I want someone to share that with, and for it to be a partnership. No one person always does the waiting. We share."

"Seems fair."

A little ball of worry inside me unclenched a bit. Not everyone thought that was a fair arrangement. I was unreasonably relieved that Ranger did. "So what do you say?"

He leaned his head back against the headboard and studied the ceiling for answers before he returned his gaze to me. "It's never been you that I don't trust. It's that I don't trust myself not to lead danger to you."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he put his hand over my mouth.

A small smile played over his lips. "I'm not done."

"Sorry," I mumbled around his hand.

"I'll work on it. Okay? I could use your help, though. I assume that I can count on you to point out to me when my protective instincts are going into overdrive?"

"I think I can manage that," I promised. "But are you sure that will be enough? You won't lock me up and throw away the key at the first sign of potential danger?"

"I'll want to," he admitted. "But I know that you won't let me get away with that, so I'll do my best to overcome the urge. And I'll probably need some therapy."

He must have seen the surprise on my face.

"I've met with several therapists over the years. Military-ordered. There was one I liked, and I continued to see him occasionally after our mandated sessions were over. He's helped me identify my trust issues, and he's offered to help me work on them. I think I'll take him up on it."

"That sounds great," I told him. My heart was back in its rightful place in my chest, and it was beating fast and steady. A warm, satisfied feeling seeped from my solar plexus and traveled through my veins.

"Consider it a deal," he said. And sealed it with a kiss.


	20. Chapter 18

I awoke to the low drone of Ranger's voice. I reached for him across the bed before my brain registered that the sound was coming from far away. I reluctantly dragged my eyelids open, but was greeted by darkness. Ranger's tone, hushed but urgent, prompted me to roll over and seek out the source.

A sliver of light shone from under the bathroom door. Shadows moved intermittently through the light as he paced back and forth.

The clock on the bedside table told me it was a little past three in the morning. Most business calls didn't take place at this hour; but then again, most businesses weren't Rangeman. Still, I was worried. I listened to another minute or so worth of Ranger's phone call. He was doing most of the talking at that point, interspersed with moments of silence.

The bathroom light turned off a second before the door opened. Ranger paused when he saw me sitting up, then made his way over and perched at the edge of the bed. "Sorry to wake you."

"What's up?"

I could make out enough of his features in the dark to see that his mouth was set in a tight line. "I just spoke with Margeaux. Kirsch is dead."

Something turned icy in the pit of my stomach, and a jolt of adrenaline shot through me. "What? What happened?"

"Margeaux has some locals in her pocket, who serve as eyes and ears when we need them. Informants. They just reported back with word that _Los Reyes_ had found a mole in the organization and made an example out of him."

That couldn't be good. "What kind of example?"

"The dead kind. Suffice it to say it was messy, and it was public."

I wanted to chase away the shadows in Ranger's eyes and make this better. But I also knew that things wouldn't be any better until we got to the bottom of this and found the traitor. I settled for resting a hand on his arm.

"I asked Margeaux to have her people retrieve Gabriella's sister. I can't imagine that Valdez doesn't know the story behind Gabriella's capture by now. I don't know why he hasn't already gone after the sister, but we'll try to get to her before he does."

"What do we do now?"

He expelled a breath. "We go back to sleep. I'll reconnect with Cordero in the morning and figure out a new path."

"What does this mean for the Palmira op, and Valdez's capture?"

"There probably won't be a capture at this point," Ranger admitted. "Kirsch was one of our last options for coming up with an alternate plan. We'll scrap Palmira, for obvious reasons, and we'll have to wait for a new opening."

"When do you think that will be?"

Ranger swung his legs up and laid back on he bed, pulling me down with him. "The only thing I can say with certainty is that it won't be in the next four hours. So we may as well get some more sleep."

He tucked me into his body and pressed his lips to my hair while he pulled the covers back over us. I closed my eyes and waited for the Sandman to pull me back under, but no such luck. Even long after Ranger's breathing had grown slow and steady, sleep evaded me. Counting sheep didn't work, either.

Eventually I conceded that sleep wasn't going to happen for me. It would only be another two to three hours until sunrise. Slowly, gingerly, I lifted Ranger's arm and rolled out from under it. He must've been more keyed up than he let on, because his eyes snapped open at the same time that his hand went for the gun resting on the bedside table.

"Sorry," I whispered. "Can't sleep."

He relaxed at he sound of my voice and laid back down, gun back in its resting place. "Babe."

A man like Ranger must have had plenty of experience forcing his body to sleep under a variety of conditions. Or maybe he was just good at faking it. Either way, his eyes were closed and his breathing was steady again within seconds.

I crept over to the desk in the corner of the room and took a seat, booting up the iPad Ranger had given me earlier. My brain was going to fixate over the traitor no matter what, so I may as well put it to use by going back over the personnel files.

I started with Dante. Dante Mercado, aka Josue Adame, aka Hector Ruelas, aka The Executioner. Thirty four years old. Grew up in Riverside, California until he moved to Fort Lauderdale when he was seventeen. He joined the Army right out of high school.

My concentration when I'd reviewed the files earlier had been on the men's military histories. But it occurred to me that maybe we were looking in the wrong place. We'd identified the men who had had the most opportunity to commit the acts, but we couldn't narrow it down further until we could identify why they would want to. So with that in mind, I dove into the records of Dante's early life.

I started with his arrest record. Maybe we'd get lucky and find out that he'd been caught buying drugs from a certain Colombian cartel. Unlikely, since _Los Reyes_ would have been in its infancy at the time, and as Ranger told it, not necessarily distributing in the US quite yet. Still, it was worth a look.

I took the same approach with Alex's file. Bravo Six, Alex Mascarenas, aka Reyes Guevara, aka Jorge Coronado. Twenty-eight years old; practically a baby. He had the lightest Special Forces record out of any of the men, but then he was also the youngest. Born and raised in Queens, then went to Florida State for his undergrad, where he was by all accounts a star student and athlete.

Determined to leave no stone unturned, I also checked out the personal histories and records of all of the other men on the team. Pedro Juarez, Xander Crowley, and Emilio Posado. Even Commander Timothy Cordero.

Predawn sunlight was seeping into the room by the time I'd finished, and I still felt none the wiser. There hadn't been any bright neon, flashing signs that shouted 'Clue! Look over here, it's a clue!'

Ranger moved like a shadow, and I didn't realize he was standing behind me until he rested his hands on my shoulders. I also hadn't realized that my head was laying on top of my arms, which were folded over the desk. To the untrained eye, it might appear that I was sleeping, but Ranger knew better.

"Anything?" he asked. Although his careful conservation of words was annoying as heck sometimes, I also sort of loved how he always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and we could cut straight to the chase without preamble.

"Most of the men have pretty clean pasts before they enlisted," I recapped. "You and Dante are the only ones with notable brushes with the law. The rest only had minor dalliances."

"The Army generally has a pretty high moral standard," Ranger confirmed.

"Since we didn't find anything glaring in anyone's military records prior to Bravo team that would link them to Valdez or _Los Reyes_ , I figured I'd go back through all the non-military stuff with a fine-toothed comb."

"Makes sense," he agreed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, but it's been hours and I barely got through school and criminal records. And that's just a tiny sliver of these men's lives." I rubbed my fingers over my eyes and then pushed my hair out of my face. "It's great that we have a treasure trove of information at our fingertips, but it also feels like looking for a needle in a haystack."

Ranger took a seat at the foot of the bed and swiveled my desk chair to face him. I valiantly fought to ignore the fact that he was only wearing underwear. My eyes only spent two seconds taking in the expanse of skin and muscle on display. Okay, three, tops. Probably I deserved some sort of medal.

"What do you propose?" he asked.

"Let's go back to the beginning."

"How so?"

"Focus on the motive," I suggested. "We're beating our heads against the wall trying to figure out who sold out to Valdez. Once we figure that part out, then there's the whole other issue of _why._ Instead of focusing on the who, let's focus on the why first - the motive will lead us to the traitor, rather than the other way around."

"So all we have to do is understand why a US military operative would want to abandon their mission and morals in favor of throwing in with a Colombian drug kingpin."

"Yes. Exactly."

Ranger rolled his neck, stretching. "It's a good thought, Babe. But if you'd asked me three days ago, I'd have told you there was no fucking chance any of these guys would throw all that away."

"People all tend to be wired pretty much the same, right? What are the most common motives for committing crimes or doing stupid things?"

"Vengeance. Money. Love."

"We know these guys are badasses, but let's assume they're not really all that different from other humans when it comes to baser instincts."

He nodded. "Okay. You're right. We'll start there."

"We can go back through the files again, filtering for anything that would give any of the men an incentive to want to either help Valdez, or hurt Bravo team. Or hurt the military as a whole."

"We didn't dive into familial connections yesterday. We'll probably need to throw that in."

I rubbed my eyes again, contemplating the work we had cut out for us. "Okay. But first, I need coffee and pancakes before I can so much as look at that iPad again."

"That, we can do," Ranger promised.

As much as I was pissed at the traitor and determined to get to the bottom of this, I also knew that my brain wasn't going to be any good to anyone until Ranger put a shirt on. I reluctantly told him so, and he responded by walking away without a word. That was pretty much the Ranger-equivalent of an eye roll.

I ordered room service while Ranger showered, and then we switched places. By the time I emerged from the shower, breakfast had arrived. I'd gone a little overboard by ordering both pancakes and waffles, knowing full well that Ranger would eat neither. I'd gotten him an egg white omelet.

By my second cup of coffee, I was able to proceed past the same sentence that I'd read a dozen times. Words were starting to have meaning again. By my third cup of coffee, I'd made it through the basic bios of half of the men's immediate family members, and by my fourth, I hit my stride.

Unfortunately for us, Alex, Pedro, and Xander all had pretty large families. Nevertheless, we managed to slog through the bios over the next hour and a half. I'd asked Ranger whether we should split them up to cover more ground, but he asked for me to go over everything, insisting that I had an eye for detail that he simply didn't possess.

"Well…" I dropped my iPad onto the mattress and stretched my arms over my head. "I feel like that got us a whole lot of nothing and nowhere."

"Not true," Ranger argued. "What did you see?"

"You know what I saw. Dante's fiance was killed in a military training accident, and Alex's dad died in the North Tower on 9/11."

"And?"

I blew out a breath, annoyed that he was making me spell it out. "That gives Dante a whole lot of reason to have beef with the US military. And possibly the same for Alex, if he was unsatisfied with the US response to the attacks."

Ranger kept looking at me, as if waiting for more. He was going to be sorely disappointed, because I had nothing.

"Did you know Dante's fiance?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I didn't even know _about_ her. He's never mentioned her."

Huh. I hadn't necessarily expected Ranger to have known her, since she died before he joined Bravo team. But it was strange that he didn't know she ever existed. "Does that seem weird or suspicious to you?"

He shrugged. "Not necessarily. Like I said, I wouldn't consider us to be close in that way. We don't always share things about our lives. But if _you_ think it seems suspicious, go with your gut. That's why I had to ask for your help on this. You see things differently than I do."

I wasn't sure if I should count it as suspicious or not. Maybe all of these guys were like Ranger, and they were just as stingy with personal information. I was still shocked at some of the conversations we'd had over the past couple of days, and I was sort of waiting for Ranger to turn to me and say 'Psych!' and retreat back into the reticent persona I was used to.

Ranger's phone buzzed, and he stood from the desk to answer it. "Manoso."

It must not be one of his employees, because that wasn't his standard phone greeting. The conversation was brief. All I heard from Ranger's end was two Yeses, a No, and 13:00 hours. When he hung up, I looked at him expectantly.

"Cordero," he explained. "He got the news about Kirsch this morning. We're going to meet this afternoon to make a plan for where to go from here."

"What do you think are the options?"

"Not many." He took a seat beside me on the bed instead of heading back to the desk. "We'll need to come up with a plausible excuse to share with the team about why we're scrapping Palmira. And I'm assuming Cordero has sent this up the chain by now, so we'll see what JSOC wants to do about the mole."

"Where are we meeting?"

" _We_ _'re_ not. You're staying here."

I had no sooner opened my mouth to protest than Ranger shut me down with a stern look. "Stephanie. I mean it."

Oh shit. He'd pulled out the full name. A wiser woman may have let it go at that point, but I couldn't think of a time when anyone had accused me of being wise. 'Too smart for my own good' seemed like a different thing.

"I can do more than just sit in bed and read files," I argued. Although truth be told, I wasn't sure exactly what else I could do. Seemed that the situation would need to be handled by the military, and by people with far more training than me. But I needed to do _something_ valuable. Something, anything, that would get us one step closer to solving this and taking that weight off Ranger's shoulders.

He squeezed my thigh, since that was where his hand happened to be resting. "Reading files is where I need you right now. Do me a favor and solve the case while I'm gone."

I rolled my eyes, but resigned myself to my fate. Ranger took a break from the files to respond to some Rangeman emails and messages, and around noon I ordered us more room service. I was finishing up my sandwich while Ranger suited up for his meeting. My plan was to finish up my review of the men's financial records. I hadn't run across anything so far that would indicate that money was a motivating factor, but I wanted to finish ruling that out before I spent time diving into personal email records. Those hadn't come with the personnel files, but Silvio had provided them at Ranger's request.

"I should be back by 2:30 or 3," Ranger told me. "Be good."

He must've known that he deserved the middle-finger salute he got for that comment, because he treated me to a smile on his way out the door.

My abhorrently early wake-up call was starting to wear on me, so I moved from the bed to the desk lest my brain get any funny ideas that it was nap time rather than reading time. I had two more men's financial records to review. If only I could get the numbers to stop swimming in front of my eyes. I did some jumping jacks while I brewed another cup of coffee from the little Keurig in our room. Once my blood was pumping and I was more confident that I wouldn't faceplant into the iPad, I got back down to it.

Ranger hadn't been kidding about military salaries not being all that glamorous. The men's financial histories painted a picture that was pretty average for middle-class America - they had mortgage and car loan debt, and low to moderate credit card debt. Cordero looked like the one who had struggled the most with his finances, having been significantly indebted for several years. He'd managed to start digging himself out of the hole a few years ago, and his debt-to-income ratio was back in the normal range.

I painstakingly reviewed all of the large credits to their accounts; the ones that weren't obviously normal income or paychecks. After I'd reviewed everyone's histories, I had a notepad page full of credits that I needed to look into further. Pedro had a single large influx of cash about two years ago. Alex had been receiving monthly payments of around $500 for the past several years. Tim Cordero had received fairly large amounts at seemingly random intervals from multiple different wire transfer accounts.

I called Silvio at the Rangeman office and read him the list of transactions and account numbers. He told me it might take a couple of hours to trace the sources of the transfers, so I turned my attention to the files containing Bravo team's personal online data. Everything from social media profiles, to personal emails, to ad preferences. If I wanted to, I could click a link in each man's file and see a list of every YouTube video he'd ever watched.

The sheer volume of data made me want to curl up under the desk and cry. Instead, I settled for a whimper and then I dove in.

I narrowed my search by time period. First I checked out Dante's social media profiles from around the time of his fiance's death, curious to see whether I would find any anti-military sentiments. When I came up empty there, I switched over to his emails. I wouldn't be surprised if he were hesitant to express his displeasure publicly for fear of limiting his own career, but maybe he would vent privately to friends. But I found nothing. There was no statement on social media - it didn't seem like he was very outspoken in the public eye. In a couple of private emails, he expressed that she had always been dedicated to serving and protecting others, and that he would always admire her integrity, her tenacity in pursuing her own professional goals, and serving our nation with pride.

Those sentiments didn't strike me as coming from a man who would sabotage a military operation and knowingly send his comrades to their death.

My phone buzzed its way across the desk. It had only been about forty-five minutes, so either Silvio had finished sooner than expected, or he was running into a brick wall. Welcome to the club.

"Pedro Juarez's deposit of $30k checks out," he told me. "It was an inheritance from his grandfather."

Not surprising. Pedro wasn't really anywhere near the top of our suspect list. "What about Alex?"

"Child support," he said. "The trace is clean."

That also checked out, based on what I knew of him. He had sole custody of a five-year-old son from a previous marriage.

"I'm a little disappointed," Silvio joked. "I was expecting to get to go chasing down offshore accounts and uncover an in-depth money laundering scheme."

Ranger and I had made the decision not to give Silvio many details about what we were working on. Until the mole, or moles, were identified, Ranger preferred to severely limit the dissemination of information. Luckily for me, the Rangemen all knew well enough to not ask many questions when they were given a task. They just assumed that Ranger would give them all of the information he wanted to, and nothing more. That had been my experience of Ranger too, until recently.

"Sorry to ruin your fun," I told him. "But I appreciate your help. What about the random deposits in Cordero's account history?"

"Those took the longest, but only because the transfers come from a variety of accounts. I actually traced them all back to the same company though, called Winsome. It's an online gambling app."

Made sense. Ranger did say that Cordero was impulsive - maybe he had a bit of a gambling problem. Although maybe you don't classify it as a problem if the gambler just keeps winning. It had worked pretty well for him as far as a get-out-of-debt strategy. "Does the account have debits to the same company? How does the money going out compare to what's coming in?"

"That's the strange thing. There are no debits. Cordero never made payments to the company, at least not through his account. Maybe he had a bookie who he paid in cash."

"Maybe." Although if he were paying his debts in cash, why not collect his winnings in cash, too? "Could you send me the details of the company?"

"You bet."

"Thanks for your help."

While I waited for Silvio to send me the company's information, I tried searching Winsome in the App Store from my phone. Any self-respecting gambling site should have an app, right? But I found nothing.

When the email came through with the company website, I shot off a quick reply to ask Silvio if he'd ever heard of Winsome before. I hadn't, but that didn't mean much, since my idea of gambling was going to Tasty Pastry without makeup and hoping I didn't run into anyone I knew.

I clicked the link for the website Silvio had sent me and poked around. Pretty straightforward, if a little unimpressive. I'd seen television ads for a couple of big-name gambling apps, and I wasn't sure how this one hoped to compare. There wasn't a whole lot to click around. The website was lackluster at best.

My phone buzzed again. Silvio calling back.

"Yeah?" I answered, distracted.

"To answer your question, no, I'm not familiar with Winsome," he said. "And the fact that you asked makes me think that something about it is rubbing you the wrong way."

"I find it strange that I can't even find the page on their website where I can sign up to place bets."

A moment of silence on the other end of the line. I could hear Silvio's fingers flying over his keyboard and the click of a mouse. "Oh, shit."

"What?"

"You're right." His tone was a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief. "Holy fuck. I'm the worst excuse for a hacker in the whole world. This website is a sham, and I didn't even notice. It seemed so routine, I didn't even bother looking into it."

The hair on the back of my neck was starting to stand on end. "So it's not really a gambling app?"

"Please don't tell Ranger I sent you this," he pleaded. "I'll never live this down."

"Hey, focus!" I snapped. "If it's not a gambling app, then what is it?"

"I'm not sure. I can trace it, but it'll take a bit."

"How long is 'a bit'?"

"Depends on how sophisticated their set-up is. Maybe half an hour, maybe a day."

"Faster is better," I told him. I added a hasty 'thanks' before I hung up, my mind spinning.

There wasn't a lot of reason to suspect that this meant anything to our investigation. But if it _did_ mean something, then that meant Ranger was out there meeting with a back-stabbing traitor right at that very moment. To say that I was starting to worry would be an understatement.

I went back to the transaction history and looked more closely at the dates of the payments, hoping that they would prove - or preferably disprove - any connection to _Los Reyes_ or Valdez. There had been over two dozen payments made over the past couple of years. The most recent payment had been around the beginning of the year.

The timing of that most recent payment could have lined up with the time period of Gabriella's capture. I decided to see if there were any payments made around the time of the attempted Saavedra op, and found that there had been one about a month afterward. There were also a few more sprinkled throughout the one and a half years between then and now, so maybe the timing was coincidental. Still, I scrolled further back to check the time period of the Esquivel mission, too.

There had been a payment about three weeks before the night that Esquivel died in Bravo team's custody. And once again, I couldn't be sure whether it was coincidental, since there were about a dozen other payments sprinkled over the time between Esquivel and Saavedra, too. But my heart was racing and my palms were sweaty and that told me something. I'd long since learned that it wasn't a good idea to ignore my Spidey senses.

The death of Frederico Esquivel was the first event that Ranger and I were fairly certain was attributable to the traitor. But that didn't necessarily mean that it _was_ the first event. I wanted to find out when Cordero had received the first payment from Winsome, so I scrolled even further back, making a note of the dates of each payment. I counted six more before Esquivel, and then I kept searching through three more years before I was convinced that there were no earlier payments.

I looked at the date I'd jotted down for the last payment I'd noted. It had been July, five years ago. Something was niggling me about that month and year. Before I could fry my brain too much, my phone buzzed, and I lunged for it.

"Does _Santiago de Cali_ mean anything to you?" Silvio asked.

The ball of worry in the pit of my stomach turned leaden. "As in Cali, Colombia?"

"That's the one. I've traced the website there. I'll work on pinpointing the location a little more accurately, but it'll take a lot more time."

"Thanks," I breathed, and I hung up abruptly. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt like I couldn't catch my breath.

Could there a perfectly legitimate reason for Cordero to be receiving wire transfers from a fake company in Colombia? Possibly. Hell, the man was a Special Forces Commander in the US military. Even if he were the traitor, and turned out to be accepting monetary bribes from _Los Reyes_ , he'd have to be either extremely confident or exceedingly stupid to allow there to be a record of the transactions. For all I knew, the transactions could be a part of some operation he was running.

But I wasn't feeling generous. I didn't want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Not with Ranger meeting with him, probably alone, at that very moment.

There was also the fact that Kirsch had showed up dead this morning. Presumably there was a limited pool of people who knew about the spy planted in Valdez's organization, and Cordero was one of them. Cordero also knew that we were planning on using Kirsch as a means to avoid the ambush that was planned for the Palmira op. If he were the traitor, that gave him some very serious motivation to get rid of Kirsch.

I snatched up my phone and called Ranger, but his phone went straight to voicemail. "Call me!"

I also sent him a text message that said the same thing, and added an 'ASAP' and an 'SOS'. He _hated_ it when I sent 'SOS' over text when it wasn't a true, life-or-death emergency. He could be pissed at me all he wanted if this was a false alarm. And I really hoped it was.

Next I called Tank, who answered on the second ring. "Report."

"Ranger might be meeting with our traitor as we speak," I blurted. I trusted that Tank would be one of the few people whom Ranger had kept apprised of the full story of what we were working on.

"Explain."

"Cordero has been receiving payments from various accounts masquerading as a gambling app. Silvio traced the company's webpage and said it originated in Cali."

Tank was quiet while he considered that. "Does the timing of the payments coincide with events that you've tied to the traitor?"

"Yes and no." I explained the possibly-inconclusive evidence, but tacked on my thoughts about Kirsch.

"When did you say the first payments started?" Tank asked.

I consulted my notes again to make sure I hadn't gotten it wrong. "Five years ago, in July."

Tank swore under his breath. "That was right after the team brought Jason Delgado home."

The truth washed over me in an icy wave. That was it, the proverbial smoking gun. Cordero had gone in alone to retrieve Delgado from Valdez, and that must have been when they presented him with an opportunity he couldn't refuse. He'd been up to his ears in debt, and they bought him off.

"Where is Ranger right now?" I demanded. "Do you have him on GPS?"

"Give me a minute," Tank mumbled, and I heard him tapping on his keyboard. Then he cursed again. That was not what I wanted to hear. "No. He doesn't have GPS turned on."

My breath left me in a rush. My fingertips were tingly and my chest felt like it was in a vice. "Why not? Is that normal? Did he turn it off, or did Cordero?"

"Let me check something…"

"You know what? Nevermind. They're probably at the same cafe as yesterday. I'll go get him." Proud of my stroke of genius, I stood abruptly and sent the desk chair rolling until it collided with the bed. I was a little dizzy, what with the lack of oxygen in this freaking room, so I steadied myself with a hand on the corner of the desk.

"Stephanie." Tank's voice was calm but very firm. "Sit. Down."

It spoke to my mental state that I obeyed without argument. I sat, but since my chair was no longer there, my butt landed hard on the floor. While I was down there, I may as well put my head between my knees, since my vision was going a little dark around the edges.

"Breathe," Tank instructed. "In. Two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five."

After a minute or so of controlled breathing exercises, I lifted my head and nodded. "Yep. I'm okay now."

"I just checked the logs, and Ranger's GPS hasn't been on all week," Tank told me. "Which makes sense, since you've both been staying off the grid."

"Okay." I did some more nodding. That was good. Made me feel more hopeful that Cordero hadn't forcibly removed Ranger's tracker and disabled it himself. "Okay."

"You know Ranger's careful," Tank said. "He'll be watching his six. Don't worry."

Easy for him to say. He wasn't in love with the man. "What time is it?"

Tank started to answer, but caught himself before I yelled at him for using military time. "It's 2:48."

Ranger had said he'd be home between 2:30 and 3. We were still in a window of time where it was theoretically plausible that everything had gone as expected. Cordero didn't know that he was busted, so maybe he was still keeping up the act. Hopefully.

Probably not.

I staggered to my feet and headed for the safe in the closet. "I'm just going to go to the cafe. Maybe they're still there. Maybe I can -"

"Stop. They won't be there."

"How do you know?" My hands were shaking and I fumbled the combination the first time, so had to try again.

"They wouldn't meet at the same place twice," Tank said. "That's sloppy."

I finally got the safe open, but my hand was still shaking, which was making me terrified to even touch the gun. "I'll just have to go and look for him."

"Stephanie, I swear, if you step one foot outside that door, both our asses will be on the line."

"I won't tell him I talked to you," I promised. "But you can monitor me, right? Where is my tracker? I'll take it with me, and then you'll know where I am in case -"

I froze. The door to the hotel room was opening. Without another thought, I dropped the phone and grabbed the gun. Then I plastered myself against the wall of the closet and held my breath, listening. All I heard was the sharp sound of silence for a few agonizing heartbeats.

"Steph?"

I lowered the gun and sagged against the wall. A breath escaped me, and then Ranger appeared in the closet doorway. Luckily for both of us, I had the presence of mind to set the gun down before I threw my arms around him.

"What happened?" His tone was sharp, but his touch was gentle while he ran his hands over my back and arms. Once he was assured that I was in one piece, he tried to pull back to look at me, but I clung tighter. "Babe?"

"It's Cordero," I managed.

Ranger's shoulders stiffened under my fingers, but he didn't pull back. At least not right away.


	21. Chapter 19

After I finally loosened my grip on Ranger, I told him that he should probably call Tank back. Then we had to open the door to the hotel security that Tank had immediately called in when I'd dropped the phone. Once they'd surveyed the room and we assured them that it was a false alarm, I filled Ranger in on my Cordero theory.

He listened to the evidence, then told me about his meeting. Cordero was pushing to proceed with the Palmira mission. His only concession to the fact that it was an ambush was to call in another unit for support. All of that only stacked more evidence against Cordero. Ranger called Margeaux and handed over our theory, and informed me that the CIA would work on validating what we'd found. They'd take things from there.

"Now what?" I asked.

"My meeting with Cordero didn't end well," he told me. "He knows that I don't support his plan, and I told him that I didn't have any qualms about taking my concerns over his head."

"I can't imagine he was too happy about that."

"Which is why I want you out of the city as soon as possible, in case he decides that I'm going to be too much trouble to deal with."

My heart thudded and the ball of worry in my stomach got extra stabby. "So we go back to Newark? Or to the safe house with Gabriella?"

"Newark," he confirmed. "It's closer. The safe house belongs to Rangeman, which means it's more easily traced. The Newark house can't be tied to Rangeman or me. The title is under an alias. One of mine, not the military's."

"I'll be packed in two minutes," I promised, already turning toward the bathroom to gather up my belongings.

"You have about forty-five minutes." Ranger glanced at his watch. "Tank should be in the air by now. I'll drive you to Dulles to meet him. You're flying private, so you'll be able to turn around and head back right away."

I stopped and turned back to him. Something was sounding off. "You're coming with us, right?"

"No."

I must have misheard. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I need to stay here."

"Why? What for?"

"Work."

Great. So we were back to monosyllabic answers and hoarding words like they were bars of gold. "You just said that the CIA will be taking it from here."

"They've asked for me to make myself available."

"For what?" I demanded. If he was going to help, then I wanted to as well.

He just looked at me for a few beats and then turned away to sit down in front of his laptop. If he thought he was getting away that easily, he'd have to guess again.

"You just told me you think it's possible that Cordero is going to start thinking you're too big of a liability," I pointed out.

"Yes. But we also know that _he_ is too big of a liability to leave him alone. I'm going to stay nearby in case we need to lure him out sooner rather than later."

"So you're _bait_?" I was hands on hips, and my voice was getting a little squeaky.

"This isn't a discussion."

I spun on my heel and stalked off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me with more force than was probably necessary. The ball of worry was churning in my gut. It really didn't like this, and neither did I.

Ranger knew how to do his job. Now that he knew what he was dealing with, surely he could handle it. But the spiky ball of worry was also reminding me that Cordero must also be pretty freaking good, both at his job and at being a traitor, given how long it took for us to piece things together. Plus I was back to being useless - useless to help Ranger, to stop Cordero, or to find Valdez. I couldn't even go home, and I missed it. I missed Rex, and Grandma, and I even sort of missed tracking and bagging low-lifes and hanging out at the office with Connie and Lula.

All of that came to a head and made me restless and wired. While I threw all my cosmetics and toiletries back into the bag they'd come from, I tried to think of something, anything, that I could do to help.

By the time my bags were packed and waiting by the door, I'd come up with exactly one idea.

"I've been thinking about something."

Ranger paused at his laptop and closed his eyes for a few seconds, probably doing some deep breathing or meditation before he slowly turned to face me.

"Are _Los Reyes_ still hunting Gabriella in Trenton?" I asked.

He considered his answer before he spoke. "Yes. So I'm told. I still have teams keeping an eye on them."

"You said earlier that you thought there were probably a couple of higher-level _Reyes_ in the city, helping in the search for Gabriella and the missing cocaine."

His movements were still measured, guarded, but he nodded. "Yes."

"What if we can find someone who's high-level enough to lead us to Valdez?"

Ranger leaned back in his chair. "It's a good thought. Although there aren't many people who would know enough about him to be useful to us. It might be a dead end, but could be worth a try."

"I thought about that, too, but I figured he'd send someone who knew Gabriella. Don't you think? Someone who'd for sure be able to tell her apart from any other pretty face. He wouldn't send anyone who could be fooled."

Ranger nodded again. "It's a good idea. I'll ask Margeaux for some photos of the _Reyes_ in upper management, and have my men look them over to see if any of them have been spotted in Trenton."

"How will they manage the capture once they find someone? I'd imagine that Valdez's closest men must be pretty adept at staying in the shadows."

He shrugged a shoulder, unconcerned. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

I squared my shoulders and looked him in the eye. "I'd like to go back to Trenton. Have Tank escort me. He can stick to me like white on rice, I don't care, but put me on the streets. They're there for Gabriella, and they think I'm their ticket. Let me draw them out and make them come to us."

Although he'd graciously let me finish my little speech, I'd seen in his eyes that Ranger had slammed the door on that idea the moment it left my lips. "No."

My arms crossed over my chest and I stared him down. "That's it? Just no? You get to be bait, but not me? Why do you get all the fun?"

"The number one rule still applies," he reminded me.

"I can do this and still stay safe," I argued. "You can have a whole team of men surrounding me. Put freaking snipers on the rooftops, I don't care. I want to help."

"No."

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost fell over. "You do realize that this is a huge double standard, right?"

"Yes. There is 100% a double standard. What's standard for me is not anywhere near standard for you, and I plan on keeping it that way."

"But I can help!"

He sighed. A sigh from Ranger was practically a once in a decade event, so when it happened, it made an impact. He stood from his chair and closed the distance between us, resting his hands on my shoulders. "You've done your part. And I appreciate it, because I couldn't have done it without you."

Well, shit. That just threw a wet blanket over my simmering indignation.

"But I wish that I had," he continued. "Because I can't stand that I dragged you into this."

And just like that, the indignation was gearing up for another round. "You keep trying to take credit for everything. I was technically in this whole mess with Gabriella before you even knew she was in town, remember? I'm the one who _Los Reyes_ are after, not you."

"I'm not worried about _Los Reyes_ right now. I should be, but I'm not," he admitted. "Because all I can think about is that Cordero is out there somewhere in this city, with my name _and yours_ on his shit list. Because I fucking introduced you." Ranger's blank face slipped for a minute, and I saw the tension and worry in his eyes.

"Fine. I'll go back to Newark."

I felt his relief as he shifted his posture and kissed me on the forehead.

###

"Any news?" I asked.

Tank looked up from his laptop screen to meet my eyes across the kitchen island. He was perched on a barstool, glued to his computer, and I was pacing a hole in the tile while I gnawed on baby carrots. This was what my life had come to - stress eating vegetables.

He shook his head. "I doubt we'll know anything for awhile. The alphabet agencies aren't known for the speed of their decision-making. I expect it may take a couple of days for them to decide on a plan for Cordero."

" _Days?_ _"_ I lamented.

"Welcome to bureaucracy. That's one reason I got out of the military. Too much red tape for me."

"Then what about news from Rangeman? Any luck fleshing out the right _Reyes_?"

"Not yet."

I sighed and turned back to my pacing and gnawing. I would have killed for some Taskykakes right about then.

It was nearly 11 PM, which meant it had only been four hours since Tank and I had landed back in Newark. We'd come straight to the safe house from the airport - no passing Go, no collecting $200, and definitely no picking up a pizza. I'd made us peanut butter sandwiches for dinner, and I'd called Lula to check in and make sure she was doing okay. She was still staying at Tank's, and there was a Rangeman patrol on her. She seemed to be having a little too much fun with it all, although she was annoyed with me for pulling Tank away and ruining her plans for their night. Yeesh.

There was zero chance I'd be able to fall asleep anytime soon, so I continued to pace around the house. I'd texted Ranger five times since we landed and hadn't heard back. Tank assured me that he was fine, and that he was communicating with him and Rangeman. So apparently it was only me he was ignoring.

I was starting to feel like a caged tiger. I hated that I had to ask permission, but I broached the topic with Tank nonetheless. "Can I go in the backyard?"

He spared me a glance. "Keep the porch light on, and stay on the deck where I can see you."

Relieved, I stepped through the sliding door and closed it behind me, imagining that I was shutting out all my anxieties about Cordero, Valdez, Gabriella, and everything else. I took a deep breath. The wooden deck was a little cool under my bare feet, a reminder that fall was approaching.

According to Ranger two days ago, he and I would be having a rather important conversation in a few short months. But that Ranger had seemed markedly different from the one whom I'd left at Dulles airport a few hours ago. I wasn't sure that the earlier Ranger wasn't just a figment of my imagination.

There had been a very tangible shift in Ranger ever since I told him what I'd learned about Cordero. He was taking the blame for my involvement in the situation, and now he was now doing everything he could to limit any further entanglement. Given what he'd shared about his past, I supposed I couldn't be surprised. But it still stung, and made me question the feasibility of a future together if he was going to shut down and lock me up every time either of us was in any danger. It was unrealistic to think that it wouldn't happen again.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I froze, listening, but didn't hear anything. I turned to head back inside, and that's when a shadow detached itself from the side of the house. It slid the patio door open with one hand before it stepped into the doorway. I lunged, but I was too far away. Before I'd taken more than one step, I heard three quick pops.

The shadow moved toward Tank, who was slumped on the barstool but had his gun in his hand. His eyes met mine over the shadow's shoulder, and I realized that I was in his line of fire. But then it was too late to care, because the shadow pulled back and clocked Tank with what looked like a powerful right hook while he tore the gun from his hand. I made a grab for it, but I took an elbow in the gut and then I flew backwards with a shove. I stumbled, heard a loud crack and felt a flash of pain, and then nothing.

###

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Tank, lying unconscious on the floor of the kitchen. That nearly made two of us. I blinked the stars out of my eyes and tried to take stock of my surroundings. My head was throbbing and my vision was a little blurry, so I blinked again. I gingerly touched the back of my head, and my fingers came away wet.

But it wasn't me I was worried about. I managed to roll to my hands and knees and crawl over to Tank. Bloodstains were blooming across his chest and shoulder. I pressed my hands against the stain on his chest, and watched as blood slowly pooled up between my fingers.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod." I was hyperventilating.

"Leave him," a voice commanded. "He's dead."

"No," I sobbed. I argued on principle - of course, Tank couldn't be dead - but also on fact. His chest was rising and falling. He was breathing. Shallow breaths, yes, but breathing.

The shadow walked into the kitchen from the hallway and I saw that it had Cordero's face. He was dressed in black cargoes, a long-sleeved black t-shirt, and he had on some sort of black ski mask type thing where only his face showed. He ripped off the mask and tossed it onto the island.

"Why?" I couldn't manage anything else. My head was pounding and my hands were slick with Tank's blood.

Cordero laughed. "You know why. I know that you burned me. When Ranger told me there was a traitor on the team, I knew it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. I'd hoped that I'd have a little more time, but when Margeaux went radio silent on me, I figured that I'd been made."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Where's Ranger?"

"H-he's not here. I don't know where he is." Not entirely a lie.

Cordero swore under his breath. "That cocky son-of-a-bitch. I didn't figure he would be willing to leave you alone."

"How did you find me?" I didn't particularly care, but my head was still foggy. I needed more time to pull myself together, and if I could keep him talking, I might get it.

He held up my messenger bag, which I hadn't noticed he was holding. First he pulled out the iPad that Ranger had given me and he set it on top of Tank's laptop on the counter. Then he pulled out a tube of lipstick that I'd never seen before. He tossed it to me and I let it land on the floor, not willing to take my hands off of Tank's chest.

"Planted that on you at the cafe," he said. "I knew Ranger would sniff out a tracker right away, but I didn't peg you as particularly vigilant, so I bugged you instead. I knew you would lead me to him."

"You were wrong," I pointed out. "So what now?"

Cordero was leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest. He didn't appear particularly concerned. "You're going to bring me to Gabriella, and then you'll call Ranger to come rescue you."

"Why would I do that?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "Because if you don't, I'll kill you."

I had to fight the urge to throw up, and I wasn't sure if it was because of Cordero's threat, or the blood, or my head injury. Probably all of the above. "Ranger won't come. He'll know it's a trap."

"He'll come anyway."

"You seem awfully sure of that."

"He'll come for you." Cordero looked eerily calm. Utterly certain. "It's who he is. He's a Ranger at heart, always will be. 'Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy'."

"What about you?" I asked. "Were you a Ranger?"

He pushed himself off the kitchen island. "Of course."

"So you just don't believe in that bit about never leaving comrades in he hands of the enemy? Isn't that your whole plan? You sold out your team, your comrades, to Valdez."

His eyes flashed. "You don't know anything about it."

"I know that I don't trust you. Why should I bring you to Gabriella, when I suspect I'm going to die either way?"

Cordero's mouth tightened. "I'll make things very uncomfortable for you if you don't."

"You don't have time for that. When Tank doesn't make a call for his next check-in, Ranger will find out something is wrong. He'll send a team to check on us, and then you'll never get a chance to see either Gabriella or Ranger."

I watched him process that, and I pressed on.

"You need my cooperation," I told him. "And if you just let me call an ambulance, then you'll have it. I'll take you to Gabriella. Just don't make me leave him like this."

He gave me a hard stare for another few beats, but then finally he spoke. "Where's your phone?"

I started to get to my feet to retrieve it, praying my knees would hold out. But Cordero stopped me.

"No. You stay. I don't trust you to talk to dispatch."

"You call them, then! I don't care. I just want an ambulance. My phone is on the couch."

Cordero retrieved it, and I stayed on my knees beside Tank. I suppose I could've potentially gotten a message to the 911 operator if I'd been able to make the call myself, but truthfully, that had been the last thing on my mind. Tank needed help, and I just wanted to make sure he got it. His breathing was rapid and shallow. I didn't know a lot about first aid, but I'd bet that wasn't good. I hoped that EMS would hurry.

Would Rangeman be monitoring emergency responses to this house? This wasn't an official Rangeman safe house. It was a _secret_ safe house. So probably not. Would Ranger somehow be notified? I couldn't count on that.

My phone could be tracked, but no doubt Cordero wouldn't let me take it with me. My next best option would be for him to destroy it. If the GPS went offline, Ranger would know.

Thinking about GPS got me considering my other options. There was a pen in my messenger bag that Ranger was tracking. Probably I wouldn't get to take my bag with me, either. The bag was in the kitchen, past Cordero. What else did I have?

I was watching the rise and fall of Tank's chest. This was a really shitty time for him to not be wearing Kevlar. All Rangeman Kevlar vests had GPS trackers sewn into them, along with an audio transmitter that could be turned on or off remotely. I knew that Ranger's men also sometimes wore GPS trackers in their belts, but probably I'd raise suspicion if I tried to take Tank's belt with me. Then my eyes fell to his hands lying beside him. A watch!

In seconds, I had Tank's watch off of his wrist and shoved into my pocket. I looked down to make sure it wasn't bulgy or obvious. I'd gotten another little hit of adrenaline and my heart was beating faster again. This was exactly what I needed. Ranger had given me similar watches on occasion. The watch had three buttons on it. One of them was a panic button and one was a trigger to record audio. The third just set the time. I pressed all of them.

Cordero was off the phone already, and he came over to grab me by my upper arm and pull me to my feet. As I'd thought, my knees were a little too shaky. I stumbled against him, and he righted me. "The clock is ticking now. EMS is on their way. Let's go."

He still had my phone in his hand. I nodded to it. "Aren't you going to disable that?"

He smiled. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You want Ranger and his disciples to ride in like the fucking cavalry when they get the notification that you're offline."

So much for that plan. "What are you going to do with it, then?"

"Nothing. You're having a nice, relaxing evening at home." He tossed the phone back onto the couch, then grabbed my elbow and yanked me to my feet.

Shit.


	22. Chapter 20

Cordero yanked me forward and steadied me when I stumbled against him. He was keeping me at arm's length, and that made me realize that I was covered in Tank's blood. "Can I at least wash up first?"

Cordero sighed, but we detoured to the bathroom. "Hurry up."

I would've liked to spend the time scrubbing under my fingernails, but when most of the blood had washed down the drain, he pulled me to the front door. We double-timed over to a black Sedan parked a couple houses down, and he shoved me into the passenger seat.

Once we'd wound our way out of the neighborhood and were approaching the highway, Cordero spoke. "So where are we going? Where is he keeping her?"

I gritted my teeth and played up the reluctance of my answer. "Trenton."

He shot me a look, and though I couldn't quite make out his features in the dark, I could imagine that it was somewhere in the realm of 'get real'. "You expect me to believe that Ranger is keeping her in the same city where everyone and their cousin are out for her blood?"

"He said he was going to hide her in plain sight."

Fibbing had never been my strong suit, so I fought with all my might not to fidget under Cordero's intense scrutiny. Finally he gave a derisive laugh and shook his head. "Cocky bastard. I'm not surprised."

It was hard not to breathe a sigh of relief when we swung onto the highway headed to Trenton. Rangeman's control room would be in a tizzy over Tank's watch sending out the SOS, and surely the cavalry was already headed to us. All the better that we'd meet them in the middle.

Even if I knew where the safe house was, I couldn't have led him to Gabriella. Although Bobby and Lester were two of the most capable men I knew, Cordero was an unknown. I wasn't sure what sort of nasty tricks he'd have up his sleeve. And I doubted his intentions for Gabriella were to catch up over a glass of wine.

The movement of the car and the darkened cab were almost soothing, and I caught myself starting to nod off several times over the next fifteen minutes. It was hard to keep my eyes open. Cordero's voice caught me the next time my chin started to droop to my chest.

"Don't pass out on me," he said.

"Maybe you should've thought of that before you shoved me headfirst into a stone countertop."

"It's not my fault you don't know how to take a hit. How come Ranger hasn't taught you better?"

I'd roll my eyes, but my head hurt too much. "I never was a great student."

"You know, he's never talked about having a woman."

If he was trying to bait me, it wasn't working. I snorted. "What has he talked about?"

Cordero laughed. Glad someone was in good spirits. "Good point."

I sensed that he wanted to talk, and figured I may as well let him. "Why did you tip off Valdez?"

"Never could pass up a sure bet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was a win/win. Quid pro quo."

"So you sold out."

Cordero stiffened. "Money is easy come, easy go. It wasn't about that."

"I couldn't help but notice that you accepted it anyway. And it looked like it came at just the right time. You were swimming in debt."

His hands were trying to wring the life out of the steering wheel. After a moment, he visibly relaxed. "Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll admit, the money was nice. But I didn't just sell out."

"Uh-huh. If you say so." I made sure all the derision I felt made it into my tone.

"Everything I've done, I've done for our country!" His voice boomed, and I nearly flinched.

I forced out a harsh laugh. "You're gonna have to explain that one to me."

"It hasn't just been a one-way street," he said. "I'm not tipping off Valdez out of the kindness of my heart, or for a few extra bucks. He's given us tips that have spared us costly missions and saved lives."

"I can tell that the lives of your men are important to you," I drolled.

"The good of the many outweighs the good of the few. He threw some occasional sacrificial lambs my way, and I his."

The ball of worry in the pit of my stomach grew hotter and started to feel a lot like fury. He'd intended for Ranger to be a 'sacrificial lamb'.

"Like Esquivel?" I guessed.

"Esquivel was a stupid fuck. He wanted out, but the only way out was in a box. We figured, why let the opportunity go to waste? Valdez got to get rid of a troublesome thorn in his side, and I got to look like the hero for bringing in _Los Reyes_ _'s_ number two."

It dawned on me that this story was sounding familiar. "And Gabriella. She was a lamb, too?"

Cordero laughed. "Yeah, I love that one. When we got word that Gabriella wanted to leave, I tipped Valdez off. I figured he'd be pissed if we took his main squeeze. But he saw the opportunity it presented. God, I admire his ingenuity."

"You _admire_ him?"

"That whole plan was his masterpiece, and he handed it to me on a silver platter. He was the one who suggested we make it look like _Par de Balos_ were the ones who took Gabriella. I got to make the suggestion to SOCOM, and my command structure fucking loved me for it. Valdez and I knew that the tricky part would be that we not make it seem too easy. So he made sure that we got some false intel along the way."

"He just threw her away, like she was garbage." The only emotion I could muster up was disbelief.

Cordero shrugged. "A man doesn't become _Nestor Valdez_ without seizing opportunities. I don't know the story between him and Gabriella, and I don't care. He'd been gunning for _Par de Balos_ for years, but he was having a hard time selling his people on the value of taking them out. They all knew it would be a hassle, and they weren't willing to work for it. Valdez was, and _is_. He knew that if he could get _Par de Balos_ to take the first step, to do something to step on _Los Reyes_ _'_ toes, then no one would fault him for escalating the violence."

"But they wouldn't, so he took matters into his own hands."

"The opportunity to take out a rival cartel was more valuable to him than she ever was. Once the spectacle of the capture was over, he could've arranged for her to be killed, just like Esquivel. But he didn't."

Maybe it was difficult for him to let her go. Maybe that was why he'd left her alone all these months. Maybe it was why he'd left her sister alone so far, too. Or maybe he was just an erratic psychopath whose whims changed on a dime. That was my bet.

The scenery out my window was becoming more familiar as we approached the exit for Trenton. I was thankful that we'd made it that far without me talking myself into a bullet in the brain, and relieved that I wouldn't have to last much longer. Rangeman was probably waiting until we were off the highway before they would come swarming out of the woodwork to surround us.

"Which exit?" Cordero asked.

Oh, right. Where was I taking him, exactly? I spouted off an answer to his question to avoid suspicion while I wracked my brain. Would it be best for me to bring him somewhere secluded for the Merry Men's takedown? I had to assume that Cordero knew that Rangeman had a Trenton office, but would he know where it was? It was too big a risk; I couldn't take him straight to Haywood.

I caught myself checking the rearview mirrors and peering down each street we passed, on the lookout for a fleet of black SUVs. Any time now, guys…

When Merry Men started raining down from rooftops and bullets started flying, I didn't want us to be anywhere near the Burg. Or any heavily-inhabited area, for that matter. That being the case, I directed Cordero toward Stark street. At least the hail of bullets wouldn't damage anything important. Upper Stark had already seen much worse and lived to tell the tale.

"What the hell kind of safe house is Ranger running?" Cordero mused. We rolled past the 800 block of Stark and kept going and he witnessed the street giving way to condemned row houses and bombed-out crack dens.

Usually I couldn't step foot on Stark Street without a Rangeman patrol immediately breathing down my neck. And now the one time when I actually needed them, here I was, and here they weren't. Seriously, where _were_ they?

Midnight was the upper-Stark equivalent of the lunch rush, so we had quite an audience of dealers, pimps, and hos. The extra eyes on me only reinforced the sense that the doomsday clock was ticking down. Cordero was going to get antsy and demand to know where the safe house was. He was going to find out I'd been leading him on a wild goose chase, and then he'd have to decide how to deal with me. Maybe he'd just shoot me, or maybe it'd be a lot less pleasant.

Still no sign of Rangeman. Guess they were stuck in traffic or something, who knows. I was going to have to figure something out on my own, and fast. Especially since we were nearing _Los Reyes_ territory, and I didn't want to take the chance that we'd run into some of Cordero's buddies.

We were approaching a burned-out brick row house. Two stories. The windows were filthy and some were cracked or broken or missing altogether. And it had a familiar paint job - it matched my old car, minus a few select profanities.

"This is it!" I cried. Then I winced, making a mental note to tone down the enthusiasm. This was probably a really, really dumb plan. No need to get so excited about it and risk tipping Cordero off.

He pulled up at the curb and slowed to a stop, eyeing the building warily. "I was joking before, but seriously, is the security business not doing well? Ranger can't afford a building with actual windows and a fully-intact roof?"

"Hiding in plain sight," I reminded him.

"How many men does he have in there?"

"Two."

"Two?" he repeated. He hooked his thumb at the building. "In _there?_ I can already see three points of entry from right here."

"They're two very good men."

He reached under his seat and pulled out another gun, adding it next to the other in his utility belt. He zipped up his Kevlar vest. No self-respecting street lamp on upper Stark would dare shine light on the nefarious activities that took place past midnight, so we were parked in darkness. In his black-on-black get-up, Cordero blended into the night.

"Don't move," he warned me. Then he slid out of the car and leaned against the door, studying the house.

There were a few people scattered up and down the street. I couldn't see well enough in the dark to tell whether any of them were wearing colors, so I had nothing but a hope and a prayer that this plan would work. I steeled myself to try anyway as Cordero made his way around to the passenger door. He yanked it open and grabbed me by my elbow to pull me out.

"How much did you earn on _Los Reyes_ _'_ payroll, anyway?" I asked loudly. "I bet having a Commander in their pocket was probably worth a pretty penny."

"Hush." He gave a sharp yank on my arm to emphasize his point.

"I mean, your help has been priceless to Valdez," I continued. "You gave him the excuse he needed to escalate the war with _Par de Balos_. How much did he pay you for _that_ opportunity?"

Cordero turned to me, his jaw clenched, but before he could shake me or punch me or shoot me, he was distracted by voices quickly approaching.

"Say what about Valdez?" A man wearing baggy jeans and a baggy tshirt sauntered up behind Cordero, arms crossed over his chest.

Two other men flanked him. "We best not have heard that this _cabr_ _ón_ works for _Los Reyes_. Don't you know where you are?"

"You're in our 'hood now. And I don't think we invited you, but we got manners, so let's go inside." The first guy suddenly had a gun in his hand, and so did Cordero. He also still had my arm in his grip, so that was less than ideal.

"Sorry, we're here on business," Cordero said. "Step aside."

"He's here for Gabriella," I blurted. "He's going to give her back to Valdez."

"Shut up!" Cordero let go of my arm to backhand me across the face. I stumbled and took the opportunity to put a few steps between us. I went down to my knees, playing up the injury while trying to get out of the line of fire for when shit hit the fan.

"That bitch isn't here," the guy with baggy jeans said. "And if she was, she'd be in no shape that Valdez would want her back, you know what I mean?"

"And you ain't gonna be in no shape to bring her," another guy added. "We got a message for Valdez, and you're gonna help us send it."

Cordero laughed, but instead of a cocky reply, all I heard was the firing of his gun. I scrambled on hands and knees away from the bullets that were suddenly flying in every direction. I managed to scoot around the front of Cordero's sedan and took cover behind it. I flinched when a bullet bit into the metal on the other side. Tank's watch in my pocket was digging into my hip while I crouched, and I dug it out and frantically pressed all the buttons again and again. What the hell, Rangemen? What could they possibly be waiting for?

Footsteps pounded the pavement and the yelling picked up while shots died down. Some of the yelling was in Spanish so I didn't understand everything being said, but I definitely understood when someone asked, "Where'd that chick go?"

Before I had time to try to run or crawl under the car, I was being hauled up to my feet. I came up kicking and clawing, and I threw a handful of loose asphalt in the guy's face. He cursed at me and did his best to dodge my kicks while he yanked both arms behind my back and held my wrists in a vice grip.

"Get them inside!" someone called.

Cordero was listing hard to the side and was being half-propped, half-propelled forward by a guy wearing _Par de Balos_ colors. Two other men had guns trained on him. That's when I saw his Kevlar vest was lying on the ground, and my heart kicked into overdrive. There was a small part of my brain that was counting on him as a twisted sort of ally against the new enemies I'd created for us. This was officially a terrible, terrible plan. I'd jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

The man who had my wrists was pushing me in front of him while I alternately dug my heels into the ground and kicked back at him. How the hell was I going to get myself out of this?

We'd started to draw some attention on the street, but since no one else was rushing into the fray, I assumed there were no other _Balos_ hanging around. But who knew if anyone else was in the house. I didn't know if it would be better to try to stay on the street, where there was theoretically a better chance of running away; or if it would be better to get inside, where there were presumably rooms in which to hide.

Not that it mattered, because no one was asking for my preference. Despite my kicking, clawing, twisting, and screeching, I was shoved through the door. I'd been screaming for someone to call 911, though I knew that Stark Street would be deaf to my pleas.

I went down to my knees again as I was shoved through the threshold. That was going to bruise. From my new vantage point, I tried to get my bearings. We were in what must have once been a living room, although to call it that now would be an undue compliment. The floor was half covered in carpet, and half bare plywood with nails sticking up every which way. If I'd landed two feet to my left, I would've needed a lot of stitches and a tetanus shot. The room was opened up to a kitchen, but again, the description was generous. There was a dilapidated refrigerator, a sink, and a hole where a stove should have been. There was an island surrounded by cabinets. Some of them even had doors.

The only furniture in the whole space was a folding card table with chairs, which one of the _Balos_ guys was hauling over. The one who held Cordero shoved him into the chair. The two other men still had heir guns trained on him. No one else was rushing in from another room, and I didn't hear yelling. Maybe we were lucky and no one was home. Then it was just four against two. Hooray.

The men were all focused on Cordero. "So who are you, and what do you know about Gabriella?"

"I know that she's a very crafty, yet very stupid woman," Cordero replied. He was slouched in the chair and the strange smile he was giving the men with guns had him looking extra psycho. "But still not as stupid as you."

"Looks to me like you're the stupidest one here."

"Then you need your eyesight checked."

All four men had their backs to me. This was definitely one of those times when I was happy to be categorized as nonthreatening, because being underestimated was my only hope for getting out of there. What I really wanted was to run for the door, but the men stood between me and freedom.

There was no telling when they'd get sick of talking and just start shooting, so it was now or never. I crawled a couple feet to the left, keeping an eye on the men to make sure they were still engaged in their exchange of insults. One by one, avoiding any unnecessary noise, I plucked up a handful of loose carpet nails. Was I resourceful, or what?

Not that I thought a handful of nails were going to save me, but it was better than nothing. What I really needed was a gun. And I had my sight set on just the one for me.

I knew Cordero could see me, but he had a great poker face. Guess that's what years of gambling and serving as a double agent would do for you. He kept the men talking while I tiptoed up behind my target, holding my breath. I had yet to decide whether slow and steady or quick-as-a-flash was the way to go, but then my decision was made for me. In a split second, Cordero caught my eye and nodded. Then he threw himself out of his chair and tackled the man closest to him.

The man in front of me reached behind him for the gun tucked into his pants, but my hand was already there. I yanked it out and took two steps back while firing. I hit him in the chest, and he went down and didn't get back up. Ohmigod.

I dropped the nails in favor of the gun, and I fought the instinct to cover my ears while gunshots rang out in the small room. The other two men were still focused on Cordero. I reached down to snatch the cell phone that had clattered across the floor when Cordero tackled the first guy, and then I dove for cover.

Huddled behind the kitchen island, I set my gun down for just long enough to dial the phone. Thank god I had the number memorized.

As always, there was an answer after the first ring. "Rangeman Security."

"Where the hell are you guys?" I cried.

"Uh, who's calling? What's your security phrase?"

"It's Stephanie! I pressed the panic button! I'm on Stark Street, and I'm under attack!"

I didn't recognize who was on the line, but I did recognize the hard edge that crept into their voice. "We have patrols in the area. Where are you, exactly?"

"Between Tenth and Eleventh, inside a _Par de Balos_ row house! Dark sedan out front! Follow the sounds of gunshots!"

"A team will be there in three minutes," he promised.

That's when I realized the racket had actually died down. I hadn't heard a shot in about fifteen seconds. The choice I had to make was whether to lie low and risk getting my head blown off from behind, or to take a more proactive approach and risk venturing out from my hiding spot. The last thing this kitchen needed was my brains splattered across the floor, so I chose the latter.

Gun in hand, I popped my head up and peered over the counter. I spotted two _Balos_ and Cordero, all laid out on the floor. Two men were missing.

"Anyone alive out there?" I called.

No response.

I crept around the edge of the island, crouched low, gun held out in front of me like some sort of SWAT agent. My arms were shaking with the effort of keeping the gun up, and never had I been more convinced that some sort of gym regimen might actually come in handy.

As I approached the first _Balos,_ I watched him closely for any signs of movement. If he so much as twitched, I would put a bullet in his chest. Or at least somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. But he didn't move, even when I used my foot to pull his gun out of his hand and kick it across the room.

I did the same to the other guy, and then I approached Cordero. I hadn't bothered to check the other two men, having been more concerned with disarming them, but once I'd kicked away Cordero's guns, I crouched down and tentatively put my fingers to his neck. He had a pulse.

Having no desire to be a sitting duck in the middle of the room for whoever came through the door next, I stuck my gun in the back of my pants and grabbed Cordero's arms to drag him into the kitchen and behind the island. It was slow going, and by the time we made it, I was huffing and puffing. Then I snagged a roll of paper towels off the counter and turned my attention to Cordero. We'd left a trail of blood across the floor.

The blood reminded me of Tank. God, I hoped the paramedics made it. He had to be okay. Had to be.

And Ranger - where was he? Wouldn't he have been alerted by now about the panic button? As selfish as it may be, I just wanted him here. He would make everything okay.

Rangeman's arrival was announced via the crash of the door against the wall after it met someone's boot. I assumed it was them because other than the aforementioned crash, they were quiet. I'd expect _Balos would_ have something to say when they saw their friends bleeding on the floor. But still, I wasn't planning on moving until I saw a friendly face.

My hands were busy holding a wad of paper towels against Cordero's chest. He'd taken another shot in his leg, but the chest seemed to be bleeding more and I'd had to prioritize. He was unconscious, so he didn't get a say.

"Stephanie?"

"Over here!" I called.

I had an absurd moment where I almost wanted to yell out 'Polo!', like in the game I'd played as a kid. I giggled to myself, but tried to get that under control. That wasn't the type of reaction people liked to see when you had blood up to your elbows.

Manuel came around the corner of the island and spotted me on the floor. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. The blood's not mine."

He nodded. "Who's this?"

"A bad guy," I said. "He's mine, and he's not allowed to die."

Manuel nodded again, slower that time. I could hear someone else clearing the house. "Hal and Woody will be here any second. And a full team are on their way."

"Did you call an ambulance?" I asked.

"Yeah. Trenton's finest will be swarming the place soon."

"There were two other guys," I said. Probably there should be more context that accompanied that, but my tongue was feeling heavy in my mouth and my brain was muddled. The adrenaline must be wearing off.

"Are they still here?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Have you heard anything about Tank?"

"What about him?"

"He got shot in Newark. We left before EMS got there."

Manual cursed under his breath and put a call out to Rangeman's control room to check the hospitals. Hal and Woody arrived and helped clear the rest of the house. No sign of more _Balos_. Then a handful of uniformed cops and EMTs rushed in. I was asked to move away from Cordero to let the EMT do her job.

"He doesn't get to die," I told her. "And he should probably be under arrest."

Manuel helped me to my feet, and the room spun around us. "Steph?"

"I don't feel so good," I told him. And then the lights went out.


	23. Chapter 21

A warm touch on my face woke me. My eyes snapped open, but I relaxed when I saw Ranger leaning over me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Every beat of my heart felt like a hammer pounding my brain. There was hardly any light in the room, but it was still too much. I really wanted to close my eyes again but I had an irrational fear that if I did, Ranger wouldn't be there the next time I opened them. "My head hurts."

Ranger's hand was in my hair, stroking my temple. "You have a concussion."

I was lying in a bed with scratchy sheets and a paper-thin blanket pulled up to my chest. "Am I in the hospital?"

"Yes. Do you remember what happened?"

Did I? The question took some pondering before the memories came to mind. Scenes flashed before me like a View Master. "Cordero and _Par de Balos_ …" Then I flashed on a much more important scene, and the ball of worry in my stomach made itself known. I struggled to sit up. "Tank!"

Ranger held me to the bed with a firm touch. "Tank's okay. He's in a different hospital. He'll recover."

Oh, thank God. I let myself relax back into the bed and lost the battle to keep my eyes open. "I'm so tired."

"That's okay. The doctor says that's normal. You did good, Babe. Go ahead and sleep." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead.

###

Someone's hand was playing gently with my hair, fingers running through the curls. A pleasant tingling sensation started in my scalp and spread down my spine. I opened my eyes and very nearly regretted it. The ambient light in the room may as well have been the fiery blaze of a thousand suns. But the sight of Ranger looking down at me made up for the pain.

"Hi," I told him. I think I even managed a smile.

"How do you feel?"

"Like someone took a jackhammer to my skull." The view behind Ranger was of an unfamiliar room. I was reclining in a bed and he sat in a chair beside me. One of my arms rested above the blankets, and my hand was in Ranger's. The bed was uncomfortable and had guardrails, which made me realize we were in the hospital.

"Do you remember what happened?" Ranger asked.

It was slowly but surely coming back to me. Cordero, demanding to be brought to Gabriella. My ill-fated plan of last resort that brought us into _Par de Balos_ _'_ s line of fire. But before that… My heart clenched in my chest and I tried to sit up. "Tank! He got shot! Is he -"

Ranger squeezed my hand. "I know. He's okay. The paramedics got to him in time."

I relaxed back into the bed. That surge of panic really took it out of me, and I could barely keep my eyes open. "Cordero?" I managed to ask.

"He'll live," Ranger said. "We can talk about it later. Proud of you, Babe. Get some rest."

###

The scent of Bulgari surrounded me and assured me I was safe. How could I not be? I was nestled in thousand-thread-count sheets under a lightweight down comforter. Pretty sure I wouldn't be disappointed if I found out this was heaven. The only problem was that I had a headache.

I opened my eyes and took in the familiar view of Ranger's bedroom. I reached out an arm to feel that the bed beside me was warm, but empty. There was a sliver of light emanating from under the bathroom door and I could dimly hear the shower running. That answered that question.

The next semi-concerning question in my mind was how I'd gotten there. As soon as I turned my attention to it, the memories came flooding back. Cordero. _Par de Balos_. Tank.

Oh, God, Tank!

I pulled back the covers and slid my feet to the floor. The pain in my head was a consistent, dull ache. I sat at the edge of the bed and thought very hard about getting up, but that's as far as I got. And that's how Ranger found me when he emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips.

"You'll be wanting to know that Tank is fine," he told me. "Your head hurts because you have a concussion. Cordero is alive, and he'll stay that way. I'm told that's largely thanks to you."

Something was niggling at my brain, and I thought Ranger's tone confirmed it. "You've told me this before, haven't you?"

A bit of tension released from his jawline, and he came over to sit next to me. "You've been having some short-term memory problems. Just a normal symptom of your concussion, but I'm glad it seems to be wearing off."

"Were we in the hospital?" There were bits and pieces of what may have been either memories or dreams, and I was trying hard to sort through them.

"Yes. They released you to me once your CT scans came back clear."

"Tank is really okay?"

"He's at Saint Michael's in Newark. He had a surgery to repair some bleeding, but he's out of ICU and doing well. He'll make a full recovery."

"Thank God." I sighed and buried my face in my hands.

Ranger stood abruptly and retreated into his dressing room. He emerged a minute later wearing the standard Rangeman tactical uniform. "I have an appointment with the Trenton PD. Cordero is under arrest. The police will need your statement, too, but that can wait until you're feeling better."

"I can do it now," I insisted. "I'll just go with you."

"No. You need to take it easy. Doctor's orders, and mine." His tone left no room for argument. "You're welcome to stay here, and Ella will check in on you. If you'd prefer to go home, Hal will drive you. Someone will need to keep checking on you every couple of hours, especially if you go to sleep."

"Okay." I hated to admit it, but he was probably right. I didn't feel up for sitting at the police station for a couple of hours. "Thank you for taking care of me."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Don't thank me. You took care of yourself."

"I meant after. In the hospital, and bringing me here…"

"Least I could do." He checked his watch, and that reminded me.

"Why wasn't the panic button on Tank's watch working? I thought the control room would've had me on their monitors and been waiting for us when we got to Trenton."

Ranger shook his head. "Tank's watch doesn't have a panic button, or GPS. It's just a regular watch."

I let that sink in. No wonder the cavalry hadn't arrived. Good thing I hadn't known that at the time. Probably it would've doused any bravery I'd been able to muster up.

"I've got to go," Ranger said, heading for the door. "Take care of yourself."

His parting statement had a certain ring to it that made me uneasy. That wasn't his usual sign-off.

"See you later," I called. The only response was the click of the door closing behind him.

My hands were clenched together in my lap. The hospital staff had actually done a pretty good job of cleaning me up. The last I remembered, I'd been coated in Cordero's blood. An involuntary shiver went up my spine. A shower was my first order of business.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the air was thick with steam and I'd finally found the limit of Ranger's hot water heater. I stepped out of the shower and found that I needed to lean against the bathroom counter while I detangled my hair. My headache was feeling moderately better, but I was so exhausted I was having trouble staying on my feet.

Ella came in to wake me from my nap twice. She asked for my name and if I knew where I was, and then she asked if I wanted anything to eat. The second time, I said yes, and finally dragged myself out of bed. I was glad that the short-term memory loss seemed to have run its course. But on the downside, that meant that I remembered how strangely Ranger had been acting before he'd left.

Ella brought up a rolling cart full of plates, looking sheepish. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I brought a little of everything."

She wasn't kidding. There were bagels, roast beef sandwiches, pancakes, pasta, and cookies. The clock told me that the meal could be considered an early dinner, but I chose the pancakes anyway. And then I started on the cookies while I settled in on the couch to watch some mindless television. By my fourth cookie, it was nearly 9pm, and there was still no sign of Ranger. I'd expected him to be back by now.

I ventured down to the control room and ran into Hal. "Hey! Good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling better enough to be getting sick of that question," I joked.

Hal smiled. "Glad to hear it, and noted. But you might want to brace yourself, because the guys have been worried about you. Everyone's heard by now about your takedown."

"Takedown?"

"Yeah, of Cordero. The way I understand it, that guy's pretty tough. We're impressed with how you handled the situation."

"At the time, I was mostly concerned with getting out alive," I admitted. "The 'takedown', such as it were, was kind of secondary. And truth be told, I didn't do much. I just sort of stood back and let it happen."

"You did good, Steph," he assured me.

"Thanks," I said again, awkwardly. Then I nodded my head toward Ranger's office. "Is he in?"

Hal's brow furrowed. "No. I thought he would've told you."

"Told me what?"

He looked uncomfortable. "He's, uh, not here."

"I gathered that. When will he be back?"

"Not sure. Maybe a couple days?"

I felt my eyebrows creep up my forehead. "Days? Where is he?"

"He got spun up for a job out of country. That's all I know."

My heart and head both started to pound a little harder. "With Bravo team?"

Hal shrugged. "I don't know. That's above my pay grade."

"When did this happen?"

"Few hours ago. He only stopped by to grab a go bag from his office."

So he'd been in the building, but had purposefully avoided going up to his apartment. Purposefully avoided _me_. I'd had a somewhat sinking feeling since earlier that morning. He'd seemed abrupt; maybe distracted, maybe distanced. But with this news, the sinking feeling ended when a weight landed heavily in the pit of my stomach.

I had Hal drive me home, but not before I'd collected Rex from Ella. I'd missed him. Hal cleared the apartment and set Rex's aquarium back on the counter for me. He let himself out and then we were alone. I found a box of stale Golden Grahams in the cupboard and dropped a couple in Rex's food dish. He came out of his soup can, wiggled his whiskers at me, and took one of the Golden Grahams before he scurried back into his den.

"Home sweet home," I told him. "Don't worry. Everything will go back to normal now." And then I swiped at an escaped tear as it trailed down my cheek.

###

Lula gave a giant shudder that made her look like she was seizing. It wasn't the first time. The man in the elevator with us eyed her warily and then studiously focused his gaze on the digital display that counted the floors. When the doors dinged open on three, he couldn't exit fast enough.

"You okay?"

"You know hospitals give me the heebie jeebies." She shuddered again. "But don't worry. I'll be strong for Tank. It's just until we get there, I gotta get the heebie jeebies out."

We rode up one more level and exited on the fourth floor. A nurse at the reception desk directed us to room 4112, and Lula hustled ahead of me. She swung open the door to the room without knocking.

Tank was reclining in his bed with a laptop perched on his lap, and he looked up at Lula's less-than-subtle entrance. He wore a salmon-colored t-shirt, black-framed reading glasses, and a smile. Couldn't say which was more surprising to me.

Lula stormed over to him, hands on hips, eyes narrowed, leaning forward. "What the hell were you thinking, getting yourself shot at? I thought you was supposed to be some kind of badass who wears bulletproof vests all the time!"

Unless my eyes were deceiving me, Tank actually blushed a little. "Clearly I should have been."

"Damn right, you shoulda been! Won't make that stupid-ass mistake again, will you?"

"Nope."

"Promise?" Lula demanded.

"Yep."

"Well okay then." And she leaned over and planted one on him. It went on for several seconds, and I looked away and then cleared my throat.

They pulled apart and Tank straightened his glasses. Lula looked over at me. "You gonna just stand in the doorway all day, or what? Come on in, girl."

Tank sobered when he turned his gaze to me. "I owe you an apology. Lula's right, I'd grown lax on bodyguard duty. There's no excuse. I'm sorry I let Cordero get to you."

Guilt had already been simmering uncomfortably in my belly, and that brought it up to a boil. "From where I was standing, it didn't look like you had much of a choice. _I_ _'m_ sorry that this happened to you. I hate it when people get hurt for me."

Tank waved off my apology. "Wasn't your fault."

"Looks to me like the only person who deserves the blame here is that asshole Cordero," Lula said.

A faint smile returned to Tank's face while he looked at Lula, and then he turned back to me and the smile went flat around the edges. "You know that we're not the only ones playing the blame game, right?"

Yes, I'd gathered that. "Have you heard from him?"

"You just missed him, actually. He was here about an hour ago."

"He was _here?_ He's back?" That news was just the right ingredient to turn the bubbling guilt into roiling indignation. I plopped down into a chair in the corner of Tank's room while the new emotion sloshed through me.

Tank was back to looking uncomfortable. "I think he only recently got back stateside," he offered as consolation.

"Figures. Why would he tell me he's back, when he didn't even tell me he was leaving in the first place." The truth was I hadn't heard a peep from Ranger since he'd left me in his apartment, dazed and concussed, two days ago.

"He's struggling right now," Tank said quietly.

And just like that, my heart clenched and the roiling emotions in my stomach quieted. "Tell him welcome to the club."

"Thinking that's going to be better off coming from you," he told me. "Especially since you're most likely the only one who could survive saying that to him."

Probably he was right. But first things first, I'd have to get a handle on my emotions if we had any chance of both of us making it out of that conversation intact.

Lula spent the first thirty minutes of our visit fussing over the quality of Tank's pillows until he was brought new ones. Then, after she caught one of the nurses eyeing him appreciatively, she spent the next thirty minutes scaring off anyone else who dared to lay eyes on him. I was content to sit back and watch, feeling strangely pleased that in a twisted way, the whole _Los Reyes_ situation had led to a rekindling of their romance.

When Lula had heard the whole sordid story of Cordero - several versions of it in fact, from several Merry Men - she'd stormed over to my place to check on me. She found me in a sugar-coma on my couch, surrounded by candy bar wrappers. I was pissed at Ranger, feeling sorry for myself, and drowning in guilt over Tank. Rather than let me continue to wallow, she loaded me into her Firebird and we trekked out to Newark together.

Maybe I needed to take a page out of Lula's book. The woman was many things, but a wallflower wasn't one of them. She had no problem speaking her mind, even if it meant scolding a man twice her size who could make other grown men shake in their boots.

I excused myself and stepped into the hall to make a phone call. The control room answered on the first ring, as always. "Rangeman Security."

"Hey, it's Stephanie. Is Ranger in?"

"Negative."

"Not in the office, or not in the building?"

"Both. Er, neither."

I thanked him and disconnected. Then I knocked before re-entering the hospital room, hoping I could avoid interrupting a private goodbye that couldn't be unseen.

Lula was perched at the edge of Tank's bed, his laptop having long since been shoved aside. "How much longer they planning to keep you cooped up here?"

"Doc says I should be cleared for discharge on Saturday."

Lula made plans for another visit and to bring Tank home when he was released. As we said our goodbyes, I asked him for a favor.

"Name it."

"Can you plug the address of the Newark house into Lula's GPS?"

He grinned and reached for the phone Lula handed him. "Done."

"You telling me you stayed in this house for the past week, and you don't know where it is?" she asked.

"That's what I'm telling you," I confirmed.

Lula's eyes bugged out. "Wait. Is this the Batcave?"

I looked to Tank, but he just shrugged. "There are many batcaves."

Lula was practically vibrating with excitement when she angled behind the wheel and slid on a pair of oversized sunglasses. "Where we going?"

I had Lula's phone in my hand and recited the GPS directions to her while we wove through the city toward the surrounding suburbs. Lula was doing a lot of rubbernecking as we neared our destination. Most of the neighborhood's residents were hard at work on a Thursday mid-afternoon, making the streets feel sleepy.

"I'm a little disappointed," she admitted when we pulled into the driveway. "I'd imagined the Batcave being a little more distinctive than this."

"That would defeat the purpose of it being a batcave," I pointed out. "It's supposed to be under the radar."

"Huhn." She tore her gaze from the single-story brick house to look over at me. "You going in, or what?"

"Yep." Just as soon as the paralysis wore off.

Lula watched me for a few more seconds, and when she realized I wasn't going anywhere, she put the car in park. She turned to face me, resting her elbow on the steering wheel. "You love that man, don't you?"

"Yep." The word came out a little croaky. My mouth was suddenly feeling as dry as the Sahara.

"So what's the hold up? You don't know if he loves you back? Cause girl, I've seen the way Batman looks at you, and I can answer that one."

I heaved a sigh. "I know he loves me at least as much as he's capable of right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I made a sweeping gesture at the house. "You've met him, right? He takes tall, dark, and mysterious to a whole other level. I thought we'd been moving past the mysterious part. We'd been doing a good job of talking to each other, as in an actual two-way conversation. I thought we were moving forward."

Lula waited. "And?"

"Unfortunately, it's a 'but'."

"There ain't nothing unfortunate about that man's butt."

I smiled. She got me there. "I thought we were moving forward, _but_ , as soon as things started to get tough he pulled back. He went back to being Mr. Uncommunicative."

"Sometimes men just think they've gotta solve all their problems themselves."

"Yeah, but in our lives, there are always going to be problems. And I can't be with someone who doesn't see me as a partner who can be trusted to work through them together."

Lula considered that. "Sounds fair. So now what?"

I sighed again, then set my shoulders. "I made him a promise that I need to stick to. So I'm going inside. Wish me luck."

"You want me to stick around in case you need a ride?"

"No, thanks. I'll be okay. If worse comes to worse, I'll take a taxi." Let's hope it didn't come to that.

Lula sat in the driveway while I walked up to the front door, but I didn't get a chance to knock before Ranger swung the door open. I took a step back in surprise, and he caught me by my elbow before I fell off the porch. He answered my unspoken question by pointing to one of the security cameras mounted on the outside of the house.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." He held the door open for me. I waved goodbye to Lula and stepped inside.

I turned back to face him when I reached the kitchen. "Where were you?"

My blood boiled while I watched him weigh his decision to answer. Finally he leaned back against the counter next to me and crossed his arms over his chest. "Cali. We got Valdez."

That bit of news threw me off track. "What? How?"

"Your idea paid off. We caught an upper management _Reyes_ skulking around Trenton, and he gave us a tip on Valdez in exchange for a reduced sentence for distributing. Margeaux's sources validated his intel, and Bravo team flew in."

"And you got him," I repeated, stunned.

Ranger nodded. "The judge denied bond, so he's stuck until they set a trial. It will be a lengthy ordeal, and he'll get either multiple life sentences or the death penalty, depending on where they try him."

"Is Gabriella still going to be able to testify?" I wasn't sure if there were rules against witnesses who ran away and got themselves arrested.

"Yes. She's back in witness protection until then, with her sister."

I let that soak in for a few seconds. No doubt there would be more work behind the scenes, to make sure _Los Reyes_ were shut down for good. And no doubt there would be another cartel, _Par de Balos_ or others, ready to step into their shoes. But still, it felt good. The bad guys were behind bars, and I'd helped put them there.

"Can we go outside?" I asked, nodding toward the back deck.

He followed me out. I walked to the railing and leaned on my elbows, taking a deep, bracing breath of fresh air.

"I'm sorry about Cordero," Ranger said. He kept a few feet of distance between us.

"I was going to say the same to you. I know you trusted him, and it sucks to know that he betrayed you so easily."

He looked pained. "I'll live. You may not have."

"You may not have, either, if Cordero had gotten his way. But he didn't."

"You never would have met him if I hadn't asked for your help. I practically handed you over on a silver platter."

"You mean by warning me excessively to stay far, far away?" I would have rolled my eyes, except it still made my head hurt. "I know you really want to blame yourself for this one, but you don't get the credit. That belongs to Cordero and him alone."

"I introduced you. I was sitting twelve fucking inches from you when he slipped a goddamn tracker in your bag, and I didn't notice."

I crossed my arms over my chest, sensing that it was time to say what I'd come to say. "You're being an overbearing asshole."

Ranger froze, and I knew he understood.

"No one is responsible for Cordero's actions except for Cordero," I told him. "Just like no one is responsible for my actions except for me. You told me you would trust me."

"I do trust you."

"It doesn't feel like it. Not when you do things like shut down, shut me out, or go out of the country without telling me."

His jaw ticked. "There are always going to be things that I can't involve you in."

"I get that. I do. Clearly you've had your hands full with military issues, and I have no place in that work. I'm not arguing that. But I got complete radio silence from you, and I was worried."

"About what?"

Was he really that clueless? "About you! About us! About everything!"

"What do you mean, worried about us?"

I sighed. Did I really want to admit this to him? My teeth pulled at my lip while I considered my options, and apparently I took too long, because Ranger prompted me again.

"Steph. Talk to me."

"I was worried that maybe I'd just been deluding myself for the past week," I admitted. "Thinking that we'd made progress, when we hadn't. That those glimpses I'd gotten behind the curtain were just a fluke, and now the curtain was closed again, for good."

Ranger was quiet for several long moments. His eyes never left me, and though his blank face was firmly in place, I thought I could sense the wheels turning in his mind. When he spoke, it wasn't what I expected to hear.

"I was offered Cordero's job."

An icy feeling washed over me. So much for December 1st. So much for the light at the end of the tunnel. That was it. The curtain really was closed, and the door slammed, and the deadbolt locked.

"I turned it down," he continued.

My breath caught in my throat and my heart, though it felt like it was squeezed in a vice grip, started to beat harder. "Why?"

"It's not what I want." Ranger took a step forward, starting to close some of the distance between us. "It's not what I see for myself in my picture of 'Someday'."

"I thought you said you hadn't had time to think about what your picture looked like."

"I lied."

"So what is it?" I asked. The ball of worry I'd been carrying inside me clenched painfully.

"Babe." He stepped closer and tilted my chin up to look him in the eyes. For a stomach-dropping few seconds, I thought that was all he was going to say. But then a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You _are_ my picture. You're all I see."

The little ball of worry melted into goo. "Jeez."

"Now the question is, have you given any more thought to your picture?"

"A little," I admitted.

"And?"

I looked around us pointedly, and then brought my eyes back to his. "It looks pretty much exactly like this."

He quietly studied me. I couldn't be sure he was even still breathing. He opened his mouth, then closed it. I'd never seen Ranger hesitate before, and that alone was enough to have me hanging on his next words.

"I need you to be sure," he finally said.

"In my picture, there may or may not be a sunset. And a glass of wine." I shrugged a shoulder. "But other than that, yeah. This is it for me. _You_ _'re_ it for me."

"Be very sure," he cautioned again. "I don't want there to be any miscommunication about what I'm asking. I want you in my life and in my bed, and I want to be the only man in yours."

"Done," I agreed. "I want that, too."

"When I say that I want you in my bed, I mean literally. In my bed, in my home."

I hesitated. "Permanently? Like you want to move in together?"

He nodded, his eyes reading my face like a fascinating novel.

"Can we maybe revisit that conversation more than ten minutes after I've called you an overbearing asshole?"

He smiled. "If you insist. We'll come back to it tomorrow."

"What if I'm still not ready tomorrow?"

"Then we'll come back to it again the next day."

"While we're laying out the requests, can I make one?"

"Of course."

"I want you to keep talking to me." I watched him carefully. "Every day. Can you tell me one new thing each day? Something I don't know about you."

He thought about it for a minute. "Sometimes when I've had a really long day, I tell Ella she doesn't need to fix dinner, and I order takeout from the diner down the street. Bacon cheeseburger."

My jaw dropped. "I thought bacon was forbidden on Rangeman property."

"You thought wrong."

"I changed my mind, I'll move in tomorrow," I joked.

He chuckled and then took another step forward and pressed me into the railing at my back. "This isn't exactly something new, but there's something else I need to tell you."

"Okay," I drawled, trying to decide whether to be nervous.

His fingers curled around the nape of my neck and he pressed his forehead to mine. "I love you."

I didn't get a chance to respond, but my mouth curved into a smile underneath his. I sort of missed the _Babe_ , but damn, those words were good to hear too.


	24. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Ten Months Later_

"Quit lollygagging! It's time to go!" My mother's voice carried up the stairs and propelled me back to my formative years. I'd heard that particular refrain countless times in all manner of circumstances. Today, the overriding emotion in the Plum household was eager anticipation.

"You look great, Grandma," I said again. She'd insisted that we get ready together. After a morning appointment at the Cut 'N Curl, a mani/pedi at home, and then nearly an hour fussing with makeup, I had reached my limit with the primping and prepping.

"You don't think my dress clashes with my hair?" she asked, tilting her chin this way then that while she studied the mirror.

Since Grandma's new hair color was somewhere in the neighborhood of Tweety Bird, it was a fair bet that anything would clash. But since my mother was right and we actually did have to get going, best not to bring that up. "Not at all. Your dress complements the undertones."

Grandma pursed her lips and then nodded. "I think so too."

"So are you ready to go?" I took the liberty of collecting her shawl and small beaded purse from the top of her dresser.

"You seem awfully antsy," she told me. "But I guess I can see why you'd be in a hurry. Are you nervous?"

I ushered Grandma out into the hallway. "Why would I be nervous?"

"Just wondered if maybe you were having any second thoughts."

"Of course not!"

"I didn't think so," she assured me. And with that, we hustled down the stairs.

My father was in his recliner in front of the television, where he would remain until the moment we were ready to walk out the door. He'd done this dance before and knew that there were still several precious moments of relaxation ahead of him even after my mother had issued her warning to lollygaggers.

"Looking spiffy, Dad," I called to him. He wore a dark gray suit with a blue tie. It was fine that he was slouching in his chair, since no wrinkle would dare appear under my mother's roof.

Hearing us come down the stairs, my mother bustled out from the kitchen. She stopped when she saw us and pressed her hands over her heart. "Oh, my. Don't you look beautiful."

"Thanks," Grandma said. "It's because the green in my dress complements the undertones in my new hair."

My mother's gaze slid to Grandma, and her eyes widened when they caught on her hair. I watched her struggle with that one for a moment, but apparently not even Tweety Bird could upset my mother today. "Isn't that nice," she managed.

"Should we get going?" I encouraged, starting to edge towards the door.

My mother's attention was still on Grandma's hair, and she gave a small grimace.

"On second thought, why don't we have a quick sip of some liquid courage?" I suggested. I needed to nip that grimace in the bud. "I think we could all use it."

My mother looked relieved and immediately turned for the kitchen. "Yes, I was going to suggest the same."

"Good thinking," Grandma agreed. Then she elbowed me in the ribs. "I knew you were a little nervous."

My mother whirled on us, her hands strangling a bottle of whiskey and her eyes containing way too much excitement. "Are you nervous? Because if you are, I'm sure it's not too late. You could -"

"Stop!" I held up a hand like a traffic cop. "Both of you, stop. I'm not nervous. Why would I be?"

"I just don't want you to think that it's too late," my mother told me earnestly. "If you've changed your mind, I'm sure you could -"

"Changed my mind?" I cried. "No, I haven't changed my mind! I'm in love with Ranger. He makes me happy."

Grandma nodded sagely. "That's what I thought. And I can see why, if you know what I mean."

"Appearances aren't everything," my mother cautioned.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly fell over. "Seriously? _Now_ you decide on this philosophy?"

"There's a lot more to Carlos than appearances." I jumped a little turned to see my father standing in the threshold of the kitchen. "And you only need to see the way he looks at Stephanie to see that he loves her more than life itself."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, trying not to get choked up. My dad's idea of an emotional conversation was when he heard that we'd run out of pot roast, so this meant a lot coming from him.

My mother sighed, and held out a glass with a finger's worth of whiskey. "You know I only want you to be happy, right?"

"I know. And I am. Thank you." I knew that was true, but I also suspected that my happiness wasn't _all_ my mother wanted. Probably she wouldn't mind if Ranger and I decided to buy the house across the street, get matching boring jobs at the button factory, and start popping out grandkids. That wasn't going to happen anytime… well, ever.

"To being happy," Grandma proposed. The three of us clinked our glasses together and knocked back a bracing shot of whiskey.

The drive to the church only took five minutes, but the hunt for a parking spot took ten. I never would've expected for this to turn into such a circus, but the will of pushy mothers was not to be underestimated. Surely it would go down as the Burg Wedding of the Year. Oh boy.

We really were running a little late, and only a few stragglers were still making their way toward the big double doors. A gaggle of people, probably cousins twice or thrice removed, were loitering on the front stoop.

Grandma turned back to look at me, and I realized I had frozen on the blacktop. "You trying to hang back so you can make a dramatic entrance? That's a good plan. Count me in."

It was decidedly not a good plan. I didn't have any desire to draw more attention to myself than was necessary. "I think I left my phone in the car," I told her. "You go on ahead, though, don't wait for me. You don't want to miss out on the good seats."

Grandma didn't have to think about that for long. "You're right. We don't want to be left to the nosebleeds, or behind a pillar or something. Well hurry up! You don't want to keep Ranger waiting."

Truth be told, the knowledge that Ranger was waiting for me was the only thing that was keeping me from bolting. It felt ridiculous to admit, even to myself, but I _was_ a little nervous. Not for the reasons my mother was probably thinking - I couldn't be more confident in the choices I'd made. But the idea of walking in there and having the eyes of the entire Burg turn toward me was not exciting.

I'd been the one who'd asked Ranger to do this today in the first place. I couldn't back out now. But I could at least be a little less conspicuous. Hopefully. It was that kernel of hope that had me trudging around the back of the building to the access door that was traditionally only used for Sunday school. Thankfully it was unlocked.

I gently lowered myself into one of the kiddie-sized chairs in the Sunday school room, careful not to step on my dress in the process. Probably I had about five minutes left before most everyone would be seated. I took up a staring contest with the door, listening to the indistinguishable buzz of voices from the other side. What was with these nerves of mine?

I hadn't seen Ranger since yesterday morning, and as corny as it sounded, I missed him. He wasn't traveling or needing to go 'in the wind' nearly as often these days, and I'd grown spoiled having him home every night. It had only taken him about a week after we'd wrapped up the Gabriella/Cordero case before he'd officially convinced me to move in. What can I say? Willpower has never been my strong suit.

So yes - I was excited to see Ranger. It was seeing everyone _else_ that was giving me a tiny bit of heartburn. I could only imagine how much Maalox Morelli must have gone through in the past couple of weeks.

The exterior door opened and I turned in time to see my dad walk through the threshold. He gave me a gentle smile. "It's now or never."

He helped me to my feet and I was relieved to notice that the drone of voices had died down. Most people must be in the pews already. My dad offered me his arm and I took it, letting him lead me through the hallway and out to the vestibule just inside the main doors.

"Ready?" he asked quietly.

I took a bracing breath and let the warmth in my chest spread through my body. "Yes."

My dad opened the door in front of us and led us through it, and my eyes immediately found Ranger's. His gaze dropped down my body and then back up, and he raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. _'Babe'_ , he mouthed and I grinned in return.

Then I turned my eyes to the front of the church to where Joe stood before the sanctuary. He was in his full casino pit boss glory, wearing a classic back suit. He stood with his hands in his pockets and was rocking a bit on his heels, belaying his nerves. I met his eyes and his smile widened. I winked at him, and he nodded in return.

My dad and I made our way down the first few feet of the aisle, shuffling to our seats. I slid in next to Ranger, and my father made his way down a couple more pews to the seat that had been saved for him next to my mother and Grandma Mazur. Ranger's hand immediately moved to my thigh and he turned to press his lips to my cheek.

"Took you long enough." His low voice in my ear never failed to give me goosebumps. "I was starting to think you were standing me up."

"Never."

"You good?"

"I am now," I answered honestly. "Just promise you won't leave me to the wolves when this is over."

He chuckled. "No regrets that we didn't do this?"

"None." My thumb began to absentmindedly play with the rings on my left finger. My anxiety over even _attending_ a Burg wedding only reinforced my surety in our decision.

Ranger proposed to me on December first and we were married in a private ceremony three days later. He'd offered to procure us a marriage license without the three day waiting period - even promised it would still be legal - but I had wanted a little time to enjoy calling him my fiance. The glow of that still hadn't worn off by the time he became my husband, although that moniker had a pretty pleasant ring to it too.

Besides, I'd needed some time to pick a destination. There were a lot of desirable options and Ranger had said the sky was the limit. My priorities were sun, surf, and sand, since it had been a high of thirty degrees in Trenton that week. When I'd finally compiled my list and shared it with him, Hawaii had been at the top. Ranger confessed that he too had fantasized about being married for real the last time we'd been on the island together. That sealed the deal, and we were on a flight the next day.

It had been perfect. If I had to guess, I'd say that we were clothed for a maximum of twenty percent of the next two weeks. We'd spent our honeymoon in a luxurious and secluded bungalow with a private section of beach. I was counting down the days before we'd return for our first anniversary.

Sure, we faced some pretty serious flack from both sides of the family when we returned. But I still wouldn't trade it for anything.

A hush settled over the room, and we all turned expectantly as the double doors opened wide. The bridal party was significant, but you'd expect nothing less of a Jersey Italian wedding. Even half-Italian. The stream of flower girls and bridesmaids was followed by a pause while we all stood for the bride. Lauren Lovick appeared in the threshold, looking like an angel in white.

I turned back to see Morelli with a radiant smile and, if I wasn't mistaken, maybe even some mist in his eyes. He blinked it back and I watched his shoulders rise with a deep breath. His gaze never once left Lauren's as she made her way slowly down the aisle. My happiness for them, and for me, settled like a warm hand over my heart.

The ceremony drug on a bit, as Catholic weddings were apt to do. They'd chosen to go full-out with a mass and everything, so by the time the priest announced them man and wife, my butt had gone numb from sitting on the hard pew. Morelli dipped Lauren Lovick, now Lauren Morelli, in a passionate kiss while the onlookers exploded with joy.

No sooner had the recessional ended than Mrs. Giovichinni turned to me from her seat across the aisle. "Oh, dear. I can't imagine how you sat through that."

I braced myself for perhaps-well-meaning and yet probably-condescending commentary and got ready to wave her away.

"That's the worst pew you're sitting in. Anyone knows that. I'd imagine your rear ends are dead asleep."

I couldn't argue with her on that. We stood from the pew and started to join the crowds funneling out, and I caught Mrs. Giovichinni craning her neck to peek at Ranger's rear. Couldn't argue with her about that, either. "It did seem a bit long, didn't it," I agreed blandly.

"You two were smart to avoid all this nonsense." She waved her hand at the decked-out and jam-packed church.

I blinked in surprise and may have been gaping like a fish. Hadn't expected for a bonafide, card-carrying Burg Busybody to take that stance. If you listened to my mother, the entire Burg had been absolutely horrified by my elopement. Stella Manciatti's daughter didn't elope. Eleanor Steuben's daughter didn't elope. Only _Helen Plum_ _'s_ daughter would dare buck the Burg traditions that had been instilled since birth.

Ranger swooped in with a hand at the small of my back and offered a polite smile to Mrs. Giovichinni. "Couldn't agree more. Have a nice day."

He maneuvered us to the exit and managed to smoothly extricate us from the sea of bodies. Dusk was beginning to descend upon us as we spilled out into the parking lot. People were hurrying to their cars, eager to get to the reception and the promise of an open bar. And speaking of… "Let me just find my mother and let her know that we'll see her there. I don't want them waiting for me."

"Are we going to the reception?" Ranger asked.

I stopped short and turned back to him. "Aren't we?"

He shrugged. "Up to you, Babe. I didn't think it would be up your alley."

Of course it wasn't. But I was expected, wasn't I? Wouldn't I feel a little guilty if I skipped? But I'd been making more of a conscious effort lately to try to separate my own conscience from that of the voice inside me that sounded an awful lot like my mother's. So I took a moment to evaluate whether _I_ wanted to go to the reception.

"What about the cake?" I asked of no one in particular.

A corner of Ranger's mouth lifted in a wry smile. "I'll buy you your own cake."

Well when he put it that way… "Let me just go congratulate the happy couple real quick, and then we can go home."

"I'll be here," he promised.

It took some well-placed elbows and strategic _'scuse me's,_ but I managed to fight my way back into the church. Joe and Lauren were holding court in the corner of the vestibule and I inserted myself into the line of well-wishers. I tried hard not to make direct eye contact with anyone, lest they feel the need to come over and ask me whether I regretted breaking Joe's heart, or whether I was jealous of Lauren, or whether I was planning on keeping a little something going with Joe on the side. All of which I had already been asked in multiple variations ever since the invitations had gone out.

I hadn't seen Morelli much over the past year. Sometimes we ran into each other at the police station or at the market. Occasionally at the Tasty Pastry, which typically brought up an unusual combination of feelings. Our interactions had been cordial at first, and then slowly evolved into friendly. Morelli had been an important part of my life for years. I was glad that we'd been able to settle pretty seamlessly into a new sort of normal, though I had been a little surprised to receive a wedding invitation.

No doubt Lauren had a lot to do with that. I'd only ever had one true conversation with her. She'd sought me out about six weeks after Joe and I broke up. She said that he'd withdrawn from her a little after the breakup, but that he was starting to come back and wanting to get a little more serious. She wanted to know if he and I were really over, and if she had my blessing. I told her I wasn't Joe's Keeper, but that I wanted him to be happy, and I thought she could be a part of that. She seemed like a genuinely good person. I was thinking about hooking her and my mother up on some sort of date.

I watched her laughing with one of her bridesmaids. She kept a hand on Joe's shoulder, leaning into him slightly, while his arm was around her waist. They hadn't stopped touching since her father had handed her over before the ceremony. I knew that feeling - Ranger was constantly finding excuses to touch me, and I had to admit that I loved it.

Finally I made it to the front of the line, and I encountered Lauren first while Morelli was shaking hands with his Great Uncle Mickey. Lauren's radiant smile never wavered, and to my surprise she pulled me into a hug. "I'm so glad you came!"

"Thanks for inviting me." I awkwardly returned her embrace. "It was a beautiful ceremony."

She rolled her eyes. "It was a _long_ ceremony. But thank you. And now your reward for sitting through it is that you get to come party, and the drinks are on us!"

Her smile was contagious. "We won't make it to the reception, so I wanted to come and give you both my best wishes."

"Skipping out before cake?" Morelli asked, turning to us. He moved his arm up to Lauren's shoulders and pulled her closer. "I hope it's not a matter of life or death."

"Nope. Just a prior commitment," I fibbed. Guess it wasn't a fib if you counted my commitment to no longer being fodder for Burg gossip.

"Well I'm glad that you were able to make it to the ceremony at least," Lauren told me. She reached out to lay a hand on my forearm and gave an affectionate squeeze. "It means a lot that you came. Thank you."

Lauren turned to face the next people in the line of well-wishers, and I shuffled forward a little until I was standing right in front of Morelli. "Congratulations," I told him.

"Thanks." His smile turned a little wry around the edges. "My invitation to Hawaii must've gotten lost in the mail, huh?"

I gave him a pointed look. "We all had so much fun the last time we were there, I can't believe we forgot to include you."

He chuckled. "I'm happy for you, Cupcake. He's a good man. The right man."

The last part of me that was still clenched with worry finally relaxed. "Thanks. You got the right one, too."

He turned his gaze to Lauren and the adoration on his face was unmistakable. "I know."

"Take care, Joe."

He nodded, and with that I shuffled out of the way to make room for the last of the line of people. The church had been slowly emptying out, and it wasn't difficult to make my way back out to the parking lot and find Ranger right where I'd left him.

As soon as I was within grabbing distance, he took my hand and reeled me into him. "I told your parents we weren't planning on attending the reception, but that we'd see them at dinner next Friday."

I braced my hands on his chest and looked up at him. "And my mother just accepted that answer? There was no argument over us skipping out early?"

"I told you, Babe. You just need to stand your ground. Your mother responds well when you speak with authority." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Come to think of it, so do you."

I scoffed and pulled away, and slapped at his hands when he tried to pull me back. I marched over to the Cayenne and didn't need any superpowers of observation to know that he was right on my heels. When I reached the Turbo I turned around and leaned my butt against the passenger door, and Ranger kept moving until he was pressing me against the car.

"Take me home," I told him. Authoritatively.

"There you go," he praised. Then he brushed his lips over mine and pulled back to give me a private smile. "Would you still like to stop for cake first?"

Probably Ella would have already fixed up a dessert to go with our dinner. It wouldn't be wedding cake, but it might be something even better. She'd made some inroads with my mother and had managed to obtain the coveted pineapple upside-down cake recipe. Plus, with Ranger's warm body pressing into mine, my priorities were starting to shift away from dessert and onto other delicious things.

"Unnecessary," I decided. "Let's just go home."


End file.
